The Nameless Legend
by Soter
Summary: The true story of the enigmatic man known to the world only as Blaze. Status: Hiatus. Sorry, more information in Ch 11. -Soter.
1. Epilogue

* * *

They have greatly oppressed me from my youth,

But they have not gained the victory over me.

Psalm 129, verse 2

_Where do I begin? Most people would begin their story with a logical beginning, such as their birth, or something like that. But for me, I would need to go much farther back._

_It all started with my grandfather: Erich. He was a good, patriotic man. During the second great war of this continent, he joined his homeland's air force. He did this to serve his country, and for adventure. He also did this to please his father, who had flown during the previous war. His father was well known as the greatest ace pilot of all times. There was no pilot like him: heroic, calm, always thoughtful, never boastful, and above all, a flawless flyer. He ended his career with eighty confirmed victories. And prior to my grandfather's service, none had come close to competing with him. Even during my grandfather's war, when aces were born left and right, few fought with the prowess of his father._

_Except my grandfather himself._

_He was placed in command of the 52__nd__ Fighter Wing. Over the course of the war, this wing was to become renown as the "Ace Maker." Nearly all of the top twenty aces of his country served in this wing. He himself was one of them. By the end of the war, he had not only surpassed his father's score, but the score of all of his opponent's highest aces. Today, he is still the highest scoring ace of all time, at three hundred and fifty two confirmed victories. Some called him the "Ace of Aces."_

_During his time in the air force, he fell in love with one of the women of the town his base was at. This town had been captured by his fellow country men and all of the other soldiers would mistreat the people there. But not my grandfather. He was truly worthy of the title of "Ritter." Before the war was even finished, he took the young lady with him, got in his plane with her, and deserted. Many of his former comrades tried to shoot him down, but none could. It was as if he knew where each bullet would be._

_When they landed in the capital of her homeland, he was granted amnesty. He also was offered a commission to fly for them, but he refused. Instead, he married and raised a family, including my father: Lothar._

_My father, like his father, joined the military. Only my father became a pilot for the Navy. He flew A-7 attack planes off of the carrier _Condor_. It was while he was in the service that he met my mother: Helen. They married in 1983, and on the 11__th__ of April, 1986, I was born; five minuets before my sister Eva. _

_Dad stayed in the Navy, and fought during the 1995 conflict. Most of his missions were ground attack, but he did score six and a half kills, three of them helicopters. His missions often took him over B7R, the infamous "Round Table."_

_Near the end of the war, while he was getting suited up for another mission, his ship was hit by five Exocet missiles. While the ship began to sink, my father went to help his fellow crew members by fighting the fires before they reached the magazines. Most of the crew got of before…_

_They said the explosion could be seen for miles. The flight deck peeled back, and the back half of the ship disappeared in a ball of fire and smoke. My father, along with five others, was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor._

_That day, I knew I wanted to be like him._

_Mom, Eva, my sister Katie, my brother Geoff, and I moved to Bremmen after that. It was there I met the Davis family in 2005. I quickly became friends with their oldest daughter, Penelope, who is my age. He father, Jonah, was my mentor. He had been an ace pilot in a past war. He taught me how to fly, and fight, and how to control the anger that was inside me. I was also taking karate lessons, so that helped to calm me. There were tricks he taught me that he had used in his war to defeat an entire ace squadron. The leader of that squadron had been his nemesis during the entire war. It was his help, along with the help of my pastor and uncle, that got me into the Air Force Academy. But I am getting ahead of myself._

_During high school, I was kind of nerdy. I didn't play many sports, except for running. I was on the chess team, which Jonah said would help me learn strategy. I was seen as a "Jesus freak;" a label I welcomed. And I was dating Penny._

_Often times, I was in the principal's office; often with a bit of tissue in my nose to stem the bleeding. Whenever a bully of jock would pick on someone, I would stand up to them. Usually this ended with the bully backing down, or me sending a single punch to his diaphragm. Other times, I would get punched as well, though that was usually if there was more than one bully. There were times when the bullies, the jocks, and the "cool kids" would single me out for my faith. I had admitted to a friend that I asked God to give me the ability to be the world's greatest pilot. Somehow, the self proclaimed rulers of the school found out and thought I was some sort of pansy. Now, not only was I standing up for others, but I was standing up for God. That happened early in junior year. The confrontation was legendary. I walked away with a cut on my forehead that would need stitches. The six senior linemen players needed help to walk to the principal's office._

_After that, my friends Seth Adams and Sora Nakahara would help me stand up as well. By senior year, we were the only "gang" at school, and we kept every bully and gang member in their place. At graduation, all three of us announced that we would be joining the military. Seth and I were going into the air force, and Sora was joining the Marines. (I always liked to tease him about being a Marine and having no hair, no brain, and no future out side of being a body bag model. He would fire back that "At least Marines don't iron their jeans and socks!")_

_While I was going to the Academy, Eva and Penny were going to Newton Medical University in Bana City. Eva was going to study trauma while Penny would study surgery. When I was not at the Academy, I was living with them in Bana. I didn't get home too much, but when I did, there was_ always_ someone who was happy to see me._

_My time at the Academy was hard. Being one to always stick up for the underdog, I was often on the receiving end of a lot of fights. Consequently, this had an effect on my standing in the class, even though I was ranked number one in grade point average. Part of why I had such a high score was because of my sight. Prior to entering the Academy, I had simply 20/20 vision. By the time of the first solo hop, I had 20/5 vision! They were measuring my sight against radar. Some thought I was cheating. I knew better. God gave me a gift. And I had every intention of using it to protect my nation._

_By graduation, I was third in the class, just behind a young lady named Kei Nagase, and my friend Seth, who was (who'd have thought!) number one. I was to report to Sand Island Air Base on the 1__st__ of June. Graduation day was the 21__st__ of May. That did not leave much time to celebrate._

_My story begins one week before leaving for Sand Island._


	2. Last Week Home

* * *

_People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.  
__-George Orwell_

_-25 May, 2010 Bremmen, Osea_

"You sure you don't need a ride, Kid." He had been calling the young man that ever since they had met. And rightfully so, Jonah Davis had practically taken in the young Chris.

"Nah, I've got my crotch rocket. Penny and I were going to ride up later today. She's going to bring it back and keep it here, if that's okay with you." The six foot, 185 pound Second Lieutenant in the Osean Air Defense Force looked over at his friend and mentor.

In another life, half way around the world, the salt and pepper haired man had been like Chris, once. But that was a long time ago. When he retired from active duty, General Davis wanted only one thing: to escape the fame. His family was already over here, having been moved when San Salvacion was invaded. After the last battle of the war, he just disappeared.

"I need you to know, Chris."

"Yeah."

Jonah looks right into Chris' blazing blue-violet eyes and says: "If you get yourself killed, I'll have to go find you in Hell and bring you back so I can kill you."

They both laugh long and hard.

"I'll be careful."

"No," he points to Chris, "you'll need to be good."

"Yes, sir."

Chris walks over to his motorcycle, strapping on his helmet as he does. As he starts it up, Jonah yells at him:

"Hey, Blaze! Don't forget to check your Six!"

As he drives of, Second Lieutenant Christoph "Blaze" Amsel salutes the former ace.

* * *

Chris and Penny arrived in Oured an hour latter. Though the Air Force Academy is on the other side of town, they decided to take a little detour first.

They stopped in front of an aviator bar called "Nine O' Nine." Named for a famous bomber, the Nine O' Nine, this bar had become the officer's club of the recent graduating class.

Hanging from the walls are old engine panels, pieces of wings, and propellers. There are also large boards behind the bar. Written on them are the names of past Osean aces and their scores. At the top is the highest scorer. It is this man that each and every nugget pilot wants to be like. His score, which has stood for sixty years, is forty confirmed victories.

Chris and Penny walk into the packed bar. Near the back, someone jumps up and shouts at Chris. As they make their way over, Chris recognizes the person as his friend Seth.

"Hey, Blaze!" Seth walks up and grips his comrade's hand. "You ready for Sand Island?"

Chris smiles, "Not at all! From what I hear, the commander of the base is _the _definition of 'pain in the neck.'" Chris walks over to the bar and gets two drinks for Penny and himself. When he gets back, Seth is trying to explain to her the pastime of pilots.

"It's called Crud. You take the cue ball and whack it against the opposite bumper, tying to keep it moving while you and your team mates rotate. Like mixing hockey and tennis."

"So then what are the sand bags for?"

"Those," Chris says, "are so that we don't damage the walls when our team loses." All three laugh, but are interrupted by a beeping. Chris pulls out his cell phone to answer the call.

While he tries to talk to the pencil pusher on the other end, Seth and Penny continue talking.

"You know, Sora and I have a running bet about you to."

"I bet you do," Penny roles her eyes as she feels the ring on her left hand.

"Yeah. Ten bucks as to whether you two get married before the end of the year or after."

"Really?"

"I got after. So, any inside information for me?"

Penny punches him in the shoulder as Chris walks back over.

"Sorry but I got to get back to base. Apparently there is some paperwork I forgot to file properly. Seth, can you take care of her for me?"

"No prob."

Chris kisses her on the cheek and smiles. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

* * *

Amsel checks his watch again. It had been five and a half hours since he left Penny and Seth at the bar. "That stupid desk jockey. I've filled that stuff four times that way before. Hopefully he's happy now."

The young pilot is so intent on burning that man in effigy that he almost runs into another pilot.

"Oh, Kei! Sorry. I guess I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's okay. Obviously you had something else on your mind." The black haired, dark eyed Second Lieutenant Kei Nagase has been a good friend and friendly rival of Chris since his arrival at the Academy. They met their second day of classes while at Heierlark. Though the Academy is in Oured, flight training and Air Combat Maneuvering is taught at the former South Belkan air base.

Like Chris, flying is in Kei's family. Her father, Dr. Ken Nagase, was the chief designer of the Arkbird space plane. He also was part of the team that was tasked with destroying the Ulysses asteroid. After Erusian took over the continent, he and his oldest daughter Naomi were detained. They escaped, with the help of Mobius 1, and brought "liberated" designs with them. These included the fabled X-02 Wyvern "super fighter." But Kei hasn't let any of this get to her head.

"I'm heading over to Nine o' Nine, you want to come?"

"Not tonight." Kei stares blankly past Amsel. Three yeas ago, Kei and her boyfriend were in a major car accident. While Kei survived relatively unharmed, her boyfriend was ejected from the car; he hadn't been wearing his seat belt. Since she was driving, Nagase has felt responsible for his death. Also, she has not been very social with the other cadets.

"Come on, Edge. We got to start celebrating while we still can." Chris tries his best puppy dog look.

"Well…maybe I'll be there later."

* * *

At eleven thirty at night, Nagase timidly opens the front door of the Nine O' Nine bar. Though there are not too many people in the building, it is still quite loud. Mostly because of an inter-service game of Crud. Some of the Navy Aviation cadets challenge the recent Air Force Academy grads.

"Nagase!" Chris waves her over to the table that he and three others sit at. Immediately, she recognizes Seth, and Chris' girlfriend.

"Kei Nagase, let me introduce Sora Nakahara, Marine Air Wing-1. Habu, this is Edge."

The young man stands up a takes Kei's hand. "It's good to finally met you, Nagase. I've heard a lot."

Nagase sits down, trying desperately to hide her 'little girl' smile. 'He's kind of cute,' she thought to herself.

Seth decides to orders up another round. While they start talking again, the game begins to take a turn for the worse.

First, a burly Marine pilot shoves a somewhat scrawny Air Force cadet named Kenneth Freeman out of his way. Freeman bumps into a second Marine, who spills his beer on a Navy pilot. Both decide to take their anger out on the cadet.

Before either can form a fist, Chris steps between them and his class mate.

"Hey guys. How 'bout we take a walk." Both the Marine and Navy pilot are significantly bigger and brawnier than Amsel, so they just laugh. So does Chris. 'Last mistake, gentlemen.'

"This little wing wiper puke shoved me!"

Chris looks at the Freeman, then looks back at the Marine; his blue-violet gaze melting steel. "Really? How?"

"Like this." The Marine shoves the cadet. As he does, Chris grabs his arm and twists it backwards.

"This is why we invented the game of Crud. So that we don't fight amongst ourselves." He continues to twist the man's arm, which lets out a snapping sound, while his friend grabs a bar stool.

But Chris knew exactly what was happening. Ducking out of the way, he lets the Navy pilot knock the Marine out cold with a solid blow. Torqued that he hit the wrong man, the Navy pilot turns to face Amsel, putting his fists up.

"Really? That's what you want?" Chris gets into the proper karate stance, his left arm tucked under his side, and the other out in front of his body. "Let's go."

The Navy pilot throws a punch, only to be blocked by Chris. To counter, Chris sends a solid punch right below the man's nose. Reeling from the pain, and bleeding on the floor, he steps back, only to trip on the Marine.

Everyone in the bar laughs as he falls over onto the floor. Chris walks back to the table as the place fills with applause.

Grabbing a napkin, Chris cleans the blood off of his left hand. "And to think I did that with only four fingers." He looks at his hand. On his ring finger is the ring that Penny bought him after he proposed. It's rather simple, but she said it is like a "promise ring" and she'll get him a better one when they get married. Next to that is what's left of his pinky finger. Chris thinks back to the night he lost it in a fight with three gang members.

"So Chris, where you headed," Sora, munching on pretzels, interrupts.

"The 108th Tactical Fighter Squadron at Sand Island."

"Really," Nagase asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"That's where I'm going, too."

It was really no coincidence that they were both assigned to the same squadron. Two of the best pilots at the Academy, both Chris and Nagase were natural dogfighters, though each had unique abilities. Chris was a natural pilot with what seemed to be am immunity to the effects of G-forces. Nagase was a brilliant tactician and could assess nearly any situation and provide a victory. They learned quite a lot from each other. They also learned they had a similar hero: Mobius 1. Often, during off hours, they could be found sitting and talking about the Continental War. In fact, by the end of second semester, Amsel and Nagase spent a large amount of time together, studying old battles and tactics. In fact, they spent so much of their time together that rumors started to spread that the were an item. This bothered Nagase a little, but it upset Chris a lot. So much so that when another trainee mentioned it to him after a hop, Amsel knocked him out. During the hop, Blaze was behind a "Blue" fighter, Nagase. He was supposed to "shoot" her, but did not, or could not. He would later claim that he had a malfunction, but no one believed him.

"How about you, Seth?"

The former cadet lets out a smug grin. "I get to stay right here. I'm joining the 27th Air Defense Squadron." Under his breath, Sora mutters 'pansy.' "Where you headed, Nakahara?"

"I still have a couple of weeks left of training, but I should be joining an attack squadron, probably on an assault ship."

The party broke up around one in the morning. Everyone headed back to their assigned rooms in the Academy dormitories. Except for Chris, who went with Penny to the hotel for a little "R&R."


	3. The Island

* * *

"_If you think training is expensive, try ignorance."_

_-Anonymous _

_-1 July, 2010_

Chris was out of his seat and at the back door before the venerable C-1 Tracer was stopped. Behind him stands Nagase and six more pilots, prepared to exit. One remains sitting; his headphones drowning out any sound.

The hatch opens, and the pilots step out, duffels slung over their shoulders. On the tarmac stands an imposing figure. Just over six feet tall, and built like a brick wall, Captain Jack Bartlett is not a man to be trifled with.

"Welcome to paradise, nuggets. You all probably know who I am, so let's make sure that I know who you are. Chris Amsel?"

"Sir!" The young pilot salutes. At six foot, Chris could be equally imposing. That is if he was more of bulk muscle instead of having the swimmer's frame he was gifted with.

"Jonathan Clarkson?"

"Sir!"

"Alvin Davenport?" The captain doesn't receive an answer. "Davenport!"

The dazed pilot rushes out of the transport. "Yes, Sir?!"

"Just making sure you're here." The other pilots chuckle silently to themselves. The captain continues to read off his list. "Everyone's here." Suddenly, from behind the group, an F-14D Tomcat blasts through the sky. Everyone but Amsel and Nagase duck. "Good. Now, let me lay down the ground rules. First, no one is to address me or their fellow pilots by their name while flying. That may be acceptable when at Heierlark, but here we will use call signs whenever you are even touching your plane. Second, your plane is owned not by your, but by Lieutenant Peter Beagle, or as you _will_ call him, Pops. You will bring his planes back safely each and every time. Third, you will not piss off Colonel Perrault, the C.O. of the 596th ADS and commander of this base. These are our three cardinal rules. You may notice that there is only one Tomcat. That is because the other seven are at McNealy, being fitted with new shackles and HMS equipment. Your RIOs will be here in a week. Now go find your quarters. Our first hop is in two days and classes start tomorrow." Bartlett turns to leave; behind him nine confused nuggets stand on the blistering pavement.

"Well, I ain't staying here." Davenport follows the captain toward the crew buildings. The rest of the Nuggets soon follow as well.

* * *

_-29 July, 2010_

Chris has had a difficult time getting used to life on Sand Island. His bunkmate, Eric McFadden or Mostang, has had little trouble, though. Even on the hops, where the former choke artist did horridly at while at Heierlark, McFadden didn't have any trouble with training regimen. Even Chris' RIO, Nate "Gremlin" Jefferson seemed to have no issues. So why was Chris lagging behind?

Staring at the dark ceiling in his room, Chris wonders if he will ever get a full night's sleep. The clock next to his bed blinked 4:37 at him. 'I'll never get back to sleep now.' Sliding out of bed, Chris pulls on his slacks, a light shirt, and his boots, and walks out to the flight line.

Sitting there in the near dawn light are eleven F-5E Tiger II twin engine multi role fighters of the 108th Tactical Fighter Squadron: Wardog. Not possessing enough Tomcats at the time, and not wanting to wear them out even if they did, Bartlett and Pops have the nuggets flying in the Tigers. Some of them are back lit by the light from hanger C, Pops' hanger. Inside, the middle aged mechanic works on his T-45 Groshawk trainer jets. Today's hop is one Chris is dreading; he is not flying but instead will be in the tower with a few other pilots, recording and scoring the hop.

* * *

_-14 August, 2010_

Boredly, Chris thumbs through the latest issue of "Air Force Monthly," a magazine dedicated to telling all about the air forces of the world. The article in the back, which he's read twice already, is about the rebuilt Erusian Air Force.

"Mail call." The clerk walks in and hands letters and small packages to different people. Chopper, who is in the middle of a card game with two of the Replacement Pilot trainees and Bartlett, gets two letters and a small box with crayon writing all over it.

"Must be from A.J."

Nagase gets a single letter from her father at the Basset Space Center; just to the east of McNealy. Apparently, there is a section of the proposed international space station ready to be taken into orbit.

"Package for you sir." The clerk lightly tosses the small box onto Chris' lap. On the outside of the brown paper is an envelope. Chris opens it quickly; it's from Penny.

_Dear Chris, I wasn't sure how to tell you, so I thought I'd just send you the test…_Chris open the box. Inside he finds a small plastic stick. On it is a little window, and in the window is the word: Pregnant.

Stunned, Chris sits there for a moment, reading the word again. "Pregnant."

Chopper leans back and asks him what he said. This time, Chris gets up and shouts it.

"Pregnant! Whoo-Hoo!" Suddenly, he starts running around the ready room, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"What's gotten into him," Bartlett asks.

"He's just excited," Chopper explains, shrugging nonchalantly. "He found out he's going to be a dad."

* * *

_-22 September, 2010_

Another day of tower duty for the young Amsel. Though the job of referee is a necessary one, Chris wonders why they can't have someone else perform this mission. Every other pilot except for Davenport are flying. The only reason that he is not was because while flying on his last one on one hop, he sent three cannon rounds into Lieutenant Svenson's fighter. Though an accident, he was reprimanded none the less.

"I hate this." The irreverent pilot leans back in his chair and sets his feet up on the consul in front of him. "How do you stand doing this?"

"I use this time to learn from everyone else's mistakes. But I hate it too." Chris looks at the screen in front of him. Ten fighters are flying in the clear September sun.

"Command room to Wardog squadron, we have leakers, aircraft type unknown." Amsel looks to his screen and sees eight fighters heading in. Bartlett asks for a vector to send the still green pilots on.

"Heartbreak 1, this is Tower. Send your pilots to 280, altitude of angels six."

Chris' jaw nearly hits the ground. On his screen, the flight of unknown fighters continues in on vector 280! "Hey, Samuelson! Can't you see that those fighters are heading straight into the enemies' crosshairs?!"

"Second Lieutenant, I will not take orders from you. You are but a lowly pilot; I don't expect you to understand how to direct planes safely." The sergeant continues to add to the fiasco, unaware that he essentially killed eight people.

* * *

"Nagase!"

"Sir!"

"You're flying number two on my wing. Gotta keep an eye on you or who knows what you could get yourself into."

Second Lieutenant Kei Nagase's eyes narrowed at that comment. She didn't like being reminded of nearly freezing up in the previous engagement. As much as she respected the irreverent captain, she didn't like him belittling her abilities like that.

"Davenport!" bellowed Bartlett.

"Ye'sir." The equally irreverent, and loud, Davenport looked up from whatever daydream he was having.

"You'll be number three. Don't screw this up like last time."

Davenport didn't like being reminded of his mistakes either, but he took it in stride, since that was how captains were supposed to talk to nuggets. "What about my wingman, sir?"

"Amsel."

That got Nagase's attention. "You're making _him_ my-"

He is part of this squadron, he is available to fly, and he is quite the capable pilot. He did graduate ahead of you, after all. Just cut him some slack."

"But sir-" Bartlett cut her off. And that was that.

For the moment, Nagase accepted that _he_ was going to be covering her six, at least for the time being. She was going to tell the captain that _she_ should be Amsel's wing.

In the back of the room, Amsel tries not to be seen. As usual, or so he thinks, someone on this base isn't keen on who he is. When Perrault found out he was of Belkan descent, he had a field day. Nagase wasn't the kindest when she found out a few months ago, either. After a while, though, she just ignored it. 'How does who my grandfather was make me a worse pilot than anyone else. Hell, I even managed to get the captain a couple times in hops. I am more than adequate for the job.'

* * *

In the squadron ready room, Nagase, Amsel, Davenport and a handful of the replacement pilots were lounging out, each one trying not to think about the day's unfortunate outcome. Nagase sat over by the window, staring out at the empty flight line.

"Second Lieutenant Christoph Amsel, report to my office, immediately!"

Chris sighs getting up from the couch. It is obvious to everyone in the room why the colonel wishes to speak to Amsel. And everyone silently wishes they had the guts to go back up thier wingmate.

* * *

That night, Chris couldn't sleep, again. He knew that his commanding officer was beating himself up about the engagement, even though there was little he could have done about it. On the other hand, Chris may have been able to stop it. Unfortunately, the arrogant sergeant would not listen to the "Belkan half breed." But that was the past. Still, he just wasn't sure about something.

So he wandered to the hanger. Inside, Pops was still working on Bartlett's F-4G, which had taken some cannon fire during the fight.

"Permission to enter, my lord." Chris salutes flamboyantly as he steps out of the night and into the well lit hanger. Blaze had gotten to know Pops quite well since he arrived on Sand Island. Quickly the two formed a strong friendship. So much so, in fact, that Pops entrusted the young pilot with his secret. That is part of why he holds him in such high regard.

"Yes, humble and unworthy nugget. But be warned, I will not suffer those who would get in my way." The elder mechanic has always had a healthy sense of humor. It was almost required that he could laugh at anything; being in the situation he was in.

"I will be as respectful as possible." Amsel picks up a socket wrench and starts to help with putting the port side starter back in. "So, did you hear about my butt-chewing from Perrault?"

"Yeah, I did. He can be such an 'uneheliches' at times."

The lopsided grin appears on Blazes face. Not many people outside of Belka and North Osea know that word. "Yep, every chance he gets. Anyhow, I was wondering how you're doing?"

"In general or in response to the attack?"

Amsel shrugs, "Whichever."

"All in all, if it wasn't for yesterday, I'd be sitting pretty. I had hoped you would never have to experience the feeling of losing comrades like that."

Blaze nods knowingly. Pops, more than any other person on the base except for Bartlett knows about that type of loss.

"Well, it looks like the starter is finished. Jack wants me to make sure that he has radar killers on it, just in case. Wanna help with the rails?"

"Sure."

* * *

**F-4G**: The Wild Weasel. Conceived during Vietnam to replace F-100s and F-105s in the mission of SAM killing. It carries no gun, but numerous radar sensors. The whole Phantom family is nicknamed "Rhino."

**RIO**: Radar Intercept Officer. The "backseat" of the F-14 Tomcat, as well as the F-4 Phantom and other tandem aircraft. Also known as "R2-D2s." Most pilots agree that the extra weight of the ejection seat and crew is worth having a second pair of eyes and extra brains in the cockpit.


	4. Pre Game Jiitters

**

* * *

**

"_The Department of Defense regrets to inform you _

_that your sons were killed because they were stupid."_

_-Anthony Edwards as Goose from the movie Top Gun_

_-24 September, 2010_

"At ease people, but don't get too comfortable." The blob that is Colonel Perrault stands at the podium in the ready room. None of the pilots had ever seen him fly, yet somehow he is a squadron commander. His X.O., Captain Hamilton, though, looks like a cleaned up Bartlett. He could fly, as the young pilot had seen. Blaze chuckles at the thought of a crane having to lift the porcine Colonel into the cockpit of an F-15C Eagle, only to have the tires burst under the weight.

Nagase looked over at the twenty-three year old, wondering what he found so funny. She'd known Blaze had a good sense of humor, but it never got in the way of a briefing before. The Colonel glares at him, and the brief continues.

"Bring the target to the ground." The screen at the front of the room shows the area where the squadron will be flying; Cape Landers. The plane they are chasing is a Tu-22R, code named Blinder. There is not supposed to be any other aircraft on the area, but the Tigers are going to carry a full load of 6 AIM-9M Sidewinders.

'Hopefully, we don't need to fire a single shot,' muses Blaze silently.

* * *

"This is AWACS, call sign 'Thunderhead.' Bring the target to the ground. Do not fire at the target."

"Sure thing. Got that gang?"

"Wardog 2 roger," Edge chimed in.

"Wardog 3 roger," quipped the loudmouth.

Silence passes as Blaze momentarily loses focus, trying to spot the Blinder.

"Wardog 4, hello! Can you hear me, 'Kid'? You'd better be marking out tail, son."

"Sorry, One. Lost my SA while trying to find 'em."

"Well it looks like you're confident at least. Just try to stick close to me."

Blaze can almost hear the chuckle of Davenport as he responds. "Man I'm glad you got the short straw instead of me."

"Second Lieutenant Alvin H. Davenport; zip it! Do you need a nickname too?"

'Coming to my rescue again, boss?' Blaze shakes his head, and focuses on finding the Blinder and watching the collective six o'clock of the squadron. He was so focused that he almost didn't hear the 'Tallyho' call from Bartlett.

As one man, the squadron turns to follow the retreating reconnaissance plane. "You are not to fire until I give the signal, understood?" The other three give their affirmatives to their captain. "Alright, where is Motormouth Chopper?"

"Ha, that's perfect! Fits him like a glove." Edge was surprised that the captain responded to Chopper that harshly.

"Attention unidentified aircraft. Please set your course for our beacon immediately. Lower your gear if you understand." There was no response from the recon plane.

Just then, Thunderhead interrupted. "Four planes approaching the unknown aircraft bearing 280."

'280, same bearing as the attack. I wonder if it is the same guys as before.' Blaze looks off toward the west, but doesn't see anything through all the goo. He looks to the radar screen, which is slaved to the AWACS radar, allowing the pilots to see more than what their on board radar could. Out about ten miles are four blips.

Blaze, along with his cohorts, turn to meet them head on. At five miles out, the radar shows them to be MiG-21 Fishbeds. 'Likely as not they're of "_bis_" variety.'

"Heads up, they're firing on us!" Chopper jinks right, narrowly avoiding being hit by an Archer missile. Without thinking, Blaze turns to follow the second MiG.

"Wardog, weapons safe."

"Shove it! I'm not going to watch any more of my pilots die." And with that, Bartlett gives the okay to defend themselves. Blaze closes the distance with his MiG to five hundred yards and gets a good tone.

"Blaze, Fox-2!" One of the 'Winders leap from the rail, tearing through the air toward the cigar shaped fighter. It connects just behind the port wing, severing the tail. "Splash one!"

Blaze snaps his head left, seeing a MiG behind Edge, three hundred yards back. He pulls a barrel roll, dropping two hundred feet and sliding in behind the paintless MiG without incident. With six hundred feet left, Blaze calls out to his fellow fighter jock.

"Edge, I'm right behind him."

"Get him off me, Blaze!"

"Turn right on my mark. 3, 2, 1, mark!" Edge's F-5 pivots in the air, and the MiG follows. Instead of replicating the maneuver, Blaze cuts into the circle, closing the distance to three hundred feet. The missile growls happily at him.

"Fox-2!" The snake like weapon barrels after the fighter, hitting the fuselage at the mid point. Instantly, the center of the plane disappears, the pilot ejecting into the cloud ridden sky.

"Edge, your six is clear."

"Thanks Blaze!" The young Second Lieutenant puts her plane into a wide turn, looking for targets. The last one is behind Chopper, and being chased by Bartlett.

"Need any assistance, Captain?"

"Negative, Blaze, I've got 'em. How 'bout you and Edge go outside and provide cover for us."

"Roger." Blaze brings his plane close to Edge's. "You got the lead, Edge?"

"Sure. There are four more coming from 280. You with me?"

"All the way." Looking over to her plane, Blaze gives a panache salute to his current leader. "How you want to take them?"

"Let's see if we can split them up and take two at a time."

Blaze clicks an affirmative. On the screen, the targets appear to be a good eight miles out. As with the first four, they are MiG-21 _bis_. Edge and Blaze move their aircraft to line up with their opponents. Both select max thrust and charge at the Fishbeds. The formation splits right as they pass them, two MiGs going each way. Edge and Blaze both turn and follow the pair heading south.

"Blaze, you got my six?"

"Yeah, I've got my eyes glued aft. Awaiting orders." Edge lines up with the trailing MiG, getting a good tone on her missile. In the blink of an eye the missile raced the distance to the other jet and up the tailpipe. The front half of the plane goes spinning to the sea.

"Edge, the other MiG is diving to the deck, going east."

"Go for it, Blaze, I got your back." With that, Blaze guns the engines and performs a Split S. The MiG begins to fill his canopy; he's too close for a missile shot. Switching over to guns, Blaze inches closer to his prey. At one hundred feet, he opens up, firing into the spine and engine. Smoke pours out of the Fishbed, which slowly lost speed and dropped toward the sea.

"Hey Edge, do you know where those other two MiGs are. I lost them during our little chase." Blaze swiveled his head about, searching for his quarry. Diving on them from seven o-clock high and about four thousand feet were the final two MiGs.

"Edge, I got an idea."

"Yeah?"

"We split up when they get almost within missile range. Best case, both follow one of us."

"Which way you going?"

"Up."

Blaze cranked his neck around. Roughly four hundred feet behind him is the MiG. At about the same distance behind Edge is the other. At the moment, the two Tigers are one hundred feet apart. But that is about to change.

"Edge, break!" Edge dives for the deck, while Blaze pitches his nose up and slams the throttle forward. Blue-pink cones form at his tailpipes as his fighter hurls itself toward heaven. His MiG continues to follow. Edge's hesitates for a moment, then dives after her.

Looking back, Blaze sees his MiG, three hundred feet behind and closing fast. Without any warning, he throttles back, pops the breaks, and holds the plane in a near vertical state as his Tiger stalls out. At six thousand feet gravity takes over, spinning his ship one hundred and eighty degrees to face the MiG head on. Advancing the throttle once more, Blaze lines up and fires, sending 20mm shells into the intake. Fire belches out the back as the doomed fighter continues its climb. With that, Blaze looks for Edge, and her MiG.

Twenty feet above the waves races Edge and the MiG. Her jet jinks back and forth, dodging cannon and the occasional missile. Blaze brings his nose over, lining up with their line of travel.

At one hundred feet above the water, Blaze is directly behind the MiG. He brings the nose down and closes to thee hundred feet. From under his stub wings flies a Sidewinder. In seconds, the MiG explodes.

"Splash five! Edge, your six is clear."

"Thanks Blaze." Nagase, grateful to be freed from her attacker, looks over at her wingman, and smile beneath her mask. Edge and Blaze turn to meet up with Bartlett. All the adversaries in the area, including the Tu-22R, are gone.

"Nice work nuggets. Wardog 4, you still with us?"

"Never been better."

"Well to commemorate the fact that we made it out alive, I'm gonna let you keep your nickname. From now on, I'm gonna call you Kid no matter what."

"Thanks boss, just what I always wanted." 'Not the first time an ace has called me that.'

* * *

**Fox-2**: NATO brevity code for a Heat Seeking Missile (AIM-9 Sidewinder) launch. Fox-1 is for Semi-Active Radar missiles (AIM-7 Sparrow) and Fox-3 is for Active Radar missiles (AIM-54 Phoenix or AIM-120 AMRAAM).

**Splash**: Call that a pilot has just shot down an enemy aircraft.

**SA**: Situational Awareness. The pilot's ability to monitor the airspace around him. Determined by the sensors available, the way the information is displayed to the pilot, and the pilot's abilities.


	5. Change of Command

* * *

_We make war that we may live in peace.  
__-Aristotle_

"How many did you get Edge?" Chopper, along with the rest of the crew walk into the locker room. Each one separates and moves over to their assigned lockers.

"Two. You should have seen Blaze, though. He got five! It was amazing." Nagase sets her helmet in her locker before removing her g-suit.

"Nah, it wasn't anything special." Chris starts to untie his boots.

"Modesty in a fighter jock; never thought I'd see the day." Bartlett, with a towel around his neck, sits down on the bench along the slatted wall in the middle of the room. "I did see that move you pulled with the second to last kill. Going vertical then stalling out, that took guts."

Chris smiles, receiving praise from Bartlett on creativity is almost as good as soloing for the first time. "I saw a filmstrip on Mobius 1 and his dogfight with the Yellow Squadron at the Battle of Farbanti. He had four Su-37s of Yellow Squadron behind him while in his F-22A. He brought the fight vertical, using a Cuban Eight maneuver that led to a stalling dive to get the advantage on two of them. I was impressed to say the least. I spent much of my off hours trying to figure out how he did it."

"Well it looks like all that work paid off, huh, Kid?"

'Yeah.' Blankly, Chris stares into his locker. On the door are two pictures. One is of his family during their last vacation before Lothar died. The other is of Penny during spring break.

Today he began the circle. He has killed. Now he wonders when he will get his due.

* * *

_-27 September, 2010_

"A ship of unknown origin…" Chris stares blankly at the screen before him. For the second time in three days, the squadron was going up against unknown adversaries. He didn't mind flying combat missions, but being sent to fight in the unknown certainly rubbed him the wrong way.

On the screen was the map of Sand Island and the surrounding area. A small ship, by the looks of it a catamaran research vessel, and eight unmanned aerial vehicles were displayed. After Perrault and the AWACS crew left, Blaze and Bartlett walked up to the screen.

"Captain, I don't like it," Blaze stated flatly.

"Why?"

"Something doesn't feel right about this. In fact, nothing has since our run in with the Blinder and his friends. Feels like a set up."

Bartlett sighs, recalling feelings like that a decade and a half ago. "I hear ya. But we're going up anyhow. Just have to keep out eyes peeled."

Three F-5E Tiger II and one F-4E Phantom II sit on the flight line, poised to leap into the air. Beneath the wings of the Lilliputian fighters are six AIM-9 Sidewinders of the 'M' variant. The "Rhino" also carries two M-Sidewinders, along with four AIM-7 Sparrows and two AGM-88 HARMs, or "High speed Anti-Radiation Missiles". Beside Chris' fighter stands Pops.

"Bring her back safe." The mechanic salutes as the pilot bounds up the short ladder.

"I will." Blaze begins strapping himself to the ejection seat. Pops climbs up, handing Blaze his helmet. Blaze tightens the straps to his chin, clips on the oxygen mask, and lowers the Helmet Mounted Display. Only recently did all the pilots in the OADF receive the new displays. Previously, they were reserved only for "elite" units flying F-22As and some late models of the F-15 series. With the new equipment, pilots can now look anywhere and see all the necessary information. Airspeed, altitude and heading are all displayed, as are markers for targets.

"Blaze, Tower, you are cleared for runway Niner-Zero. Good luck out there."

"Much obliged." Blaze taxies his screaming jet out to the end of the pavement strip, checks the control surfaces, and slams the throttle forward. "Wardog 4 is airborne."

"Form up, Kid." Half a mile north orbits Bartlett and the other two fighters. Blaze turns his Tiger to meet up with them under the warm, mid morning sun. As one, the squadron turns south, crossing over the island and heading out over the endless blue expanse. If it wasn't for their mission, this would be a very enjoyable flight.

The AWACS orbiting at angels thirty called out to the four: "Cleared to engage."

"Show me what you got Kid." Bartlett gives his nuggets the lead.

"Thank you, sir." Blaze brings the nose of his plane up and pulls ahead of the group. Two miles ahead, two RQ-2 Pioneer Unmanned Recon aircraft traverse the never ending blue that is the fighters kingdom. Blaze closes the distance at a seeming alarming rate. The first drone enters his sight, but is already too close for a missile shot. 'Oh, well, why waste a 'Winder on a toy?'

At two thousand feet, Blaze opens up with his two M-39 20mm cannons. His finger is on the trigger for less than a second, but it is more than enough to rip through the tiny aircraft.

The second drone in this formation is four hundred feet away; down and to the right. Hitting the airbrakes, Blaze drops his nose and lets loose again. "Boola-Boola!" Blaze puts his plane into a loop, angling over to the next pair.

"Hey Blaze, leave some enemies for me, okay?" Chopper pulls his F-5 next to Blaze. The loud mouth has yet to score a kill.

"Can't make any promises. You're gonna have to fight me for it." Once more, Blaze pushes his engines nearly full tilt. The next two drones grow closer and closer. A blur of blue and grey shoots past.

"Edge, engaging!" Nagase's fighter rapidly closes in on the UAVs, shooting at one, then the other. Both go down.

"Pretty easy, huh Kid"

"Shootin fish in a barrel." The last four are orbiting above the vessel. Blaze, Chopper and Edge all descend on them. Blaze gets two, and both Chopper and Edge get one.

"Wardog, we have four high speed bogies inbound."

"Same attack axis as before?" Bartlett brings his Phantom back north.

"280, same vector as last time."

"We'd better abort. This way." Bartlett engages his burner, momentarily. The gap between him and the bogies increaser. The three Tigers fight to keep up.

"I can't make it. They're running me down." Blaze looks back to see Chopper in the middle of the formation of four MiG-21 _bis_ fighters.

"Oh, you're taking the trail position today, rock and roller? Hang on; I'll clear your six o'clock." As Bartlett brings his fighter into an Immalmann Turn, the marks on the HMD go from 'Xs' to the standard squares of bandits.

"Blaze, engaging." Blaze emulates the maneuver of his captain, turning to meet the MiGs head on. Two Archer missiles streak out to meet him. Blaze dips down below the fighter to his right. The MiG continues on, apparently forgetting about the F-5 he just shot at. Blaze's nose comes up, and a Sidewinder chews its way to the fuel tank still attached to the belly of his opponent.

The resulting shockwave jostled Blaze's fighter. As he recovered, he saw Edge being pursued by another MiG.

"Edge, turn right, I'll get him."

"Roger Blaze." Nagase complies, as does the MiG. Blaze gets a good tone on his missile, and pulls the trigger. Nothing but air.

'Oh no.'

Blaze selects a second missile, but is too close to fire. Instead he lines up and losses thirty rounds of shells into his adversary. The fighter splits in half and tumbles.

"Splash two."

"Wardog, we have four more bogies inbound."

Blaze doesn't wait for Bartlett to respond. "What type?"

"MiG-29s."

Just as Blaze turns to engage, two Sparrows fly out and obliterate two of the MiGs. Instead of continuing, they bug out.

"Threat warnings still in effect. Keep your heads on a swivel."

From the vessel below, a SAM, possibly an SA-6, flies out and locks onto Edge.

'Look out Nagase!' Blaze sits helplessly at three thousand feet, unable to do anything.

Her fighter jinks right and left. Bartlett comes in to assist, getting between her and the missile. As they split apart, the missile changes targets and follows the Phantom. The right outboard section of the wing shatters as the missile makes contact. The large fighter cartwheels before righting itself.

"Scramble the search and rescue copter." And with that, Bartlett ejects.

"Wardog squadron, return to base immediately!"

"But the search and rescue helicopter isn't here yet."

"Forget it. Land, rearm and get back in the air, Yuktobania just declared war."

* * *

His plane had hardly set down when Pops and his crew ran over, six Mk. 82 bombs in tow. Each fighter is to get two, along with replacement missiles and shells. Long range tanks were also brought.

"How serious is it?" Blaze wasn't sure Pops would hear him over the whine of his jet engines.

"Very. It seems that the Yuke navy is moving against the naval base at St. Hewlet."

Blaze's heart stopped. 'St. Hewlet… Eva's there!' The young pilot looks to his friend, hoping he heard wrong. Pops nods knowingly, reading the look in the young man's eyes.

"Let's roll!"

* * *

"Due to pressing circumstances, I'll be performing an emergency in flight briefing." The image on the multi function display on the lower right side of the instrument panel changes to show a map of the area.

'I wonder where she is. Hopefully in an air raid shelter, not out in the open doing trying to be a hero.'

"Edge, you lead the formation."

To his right and forward, Blaze's lead disagrees. "Negative, Blaze is leading."

It takes a couple of seconds for Blaze to catch on. Did Kei Nagase, valedictorian at the Academy and obvious choice for a flight lead, just subordinate herself to him?

"Quit screwing around; this is war here. The enemy's all over and they're gonna eat you alive." A high speed blur shot past the three fighters. An F-14 of the Naval Air Force, piloted by Marcus Snow, blasted its way into the port area.

"Cleared to engage." Thunderhead called weapons free, allowing Blaze to, finally, lead fighters into battle.

"Form up. We'll take them one at a time."

"Roger, I'll go trail and follow you." The light blue fighter of Second Lieutenant Nagase slips behind Blaze.

"All weapons free. Formation of four tandem seat Su-25 Frogfoots, possibly UBTs, at two o'clock. Let's get 'em, Wardog!" Blaze leads his flight toward the eastern pair of attackers. Both Chopper and Edge fire, obliterating the planes.

"AWACS, bogey dope." One of the ships below calls for more targets for its missiles.

"Bogeys inbound from vector 280. It's no use, there's too many of them."

"Get a hold of yourself!"

Below are calls for medical assistance. Among the garbled voices, one stands out.

"This is Medical Center 3; we're ready to take patents."

'Eva!' Blaze's 'younger' sister sounded much calmer than a med student ever should. It was very reassuring for Blaze to hear her voice and know she's okay.

The three fighters turn to chase the second pair of Frogfoots. The two Sukhoi attackers are within range of a rocket attack on the OSF _Kestrel_, the flagship of the 3rd Fleet.

"Edge, take the wingman, I've got the leader."

"Roger."

Blaze brings his nose slightly to the right, lining up for a simple shot. "Blaze, Fox-2!" The missile strikes out at its prey, tearing the port engine off. Edge's missile also dispatches its target.

"Head west." Blaze leads the flight toward the bridge, and the ocean. Two more Su-25UBTs and two MiG-21_bis_ fighters jet in.

"Edge, Chopper, go for the Fishbeds. Cover me while I get the Frogfoots." As his cohorts put themselves into a climb, Blaze snapped into a Split-S. The Frogfoots passed under the bridge right as Blaze reached the bottom of the maneuver. A quick missile shot to the trailing plane reduced the threat. The second attacker, aware that he was being shot at, opened his airbrakes. The Frogfoot, like the A-10, is infinitely maneuverable at low speeds. In a second, the distance between Blaze and the plane is almost close enough to touch.

Blaze looks into the cockpit, making eye contact with the crewman in the back seat. He starts to point and try to get his pilot's attention.

Without thinking, Blaze put his fighter into a snap roll, landing behind his prey. A two second burst from his cannons end the attacker's run. The plane spirals in, shattering against the waves.

Blaze looks upon his downed opponent. Floating about the blazing water are…people.

"Kid, did you see that?" Chopper brings his fighter along side his leader. Apparently he had seen the men floating in the waves.

Blaze cannot answer.

"There appears to be an enemy aircraft targeting the carrier from beyond the horizon." The sailors below scramble to ready their stations.

At two hundred feet, two Mirage F.1 attack fighters burn in. Blaze looks quickly, praying that there are no Exocet anti-ship missiles beneath the wings. Instead there are rocket packs and air to air missiles. 'Forward guards. Who's the main attack, then?'

Five miles out are four Tu-95H Bears. Each carries one "AS-4 Kitchen" anti-ship missiles. "Bears inbound! _Kestrel_, you have four Bears, 'H' type heading your way."

"Roger. We have two F-14s heading west to intercept them."

"That's only two of them. The other pair is to the north. Wardog, follow me." The three Tigers claw their way to the bombers. The two polished monstrosities continue on their way, passing the fighters at five thousand feet. While they continue their dive, Blaze leads the two into a wide turn onto the bombers' tails.

"Fox-2!" Blaze and Chopper launch against individual bombers. One goes down after taking a missile to the wing root. The other falls after Edge bears in and tears the right wing off at the mid point with cannon fire.

Blaze looks around, assessing the situation. One Mirage is fleeing to the west at wave top height. It passes within fifty feet of a Sovermenny class destroyer. In formation with it are two Krivak class frigates and two missile boats.

"Edge, Chopper, status."

"I've got two Sidewinders and the bombs left."

"One missile, but both bombs."

"Okay, let's make a run on that destroyer. I'll go in at fifty feet, Edge you'll follow at one hundred. Chopper, you stay above and make sure we kill him."

"Roger."

Blaze and Edge dropped to the port forward quarter of the ship. Blaze pulled about two hundred feet ahead of Edge, and quickly closed the gap with the ship. At five hundred feet out, he opened up with his guns, hoping to keep the gunners heads down. At eighty feet out, Blaze pops his nose up, and drops the two high explosives.

One hits the forward SAM launcher, sending thousands of pounds of explosives and rocket fuel ablaze, tearing open the forward hull. The second hits at the base of the superstructure. The bridge structure collapses, bending to a grotesque thirty degree lean. Blaze breaks off to the left, allowing Edge to make her run.

Both bombs hit at the base of the bridged. The center of the hull cracked up from the resulting explosion, sending the destroyer to the bottom.

Not wanting to leave Chopper out, or have to return to base with unused ordinance, Blaze directs him to one of the frigates. Blaze and Edge pass over, guns blazing. Chopper decides against a straight on attack, and instead dives on the ship. The resulting explosion is spectacular. The hull flexes, bulging and twisting until snapping in a major ripping fireball.

As Chopper pulls out of his dive, Blaze receives orders to return to base.

* * *

**AGM-88 HARM**: High Speed Anti Radiation Missile. The ultimate radar and SAM killer in the world.

**AS-4 'Kitchen'**: A large anti-ship missile. Very long range, and very powerful explosive, though possessing a somewhat older guidance system.

**Bogey**: An unidentified opposing aircraft. Followed by "Bandit:" an aircraft identified as hostile.

**Boola-Boola**: The call a pilot makes when he shoots down a drone or other unpiloted aircraft.

**Exocet**: A French Anti-Ship Missile. Considered better than the American Harpoon. A very fast, low flying, deadly missile, its name is the French word for "flying fish."

**SA-6**: Known as Gainful, a very effective surface to air missile. Semi-active guidance, like the Sparrow.


	6. The Stories We Tell

* * *

_It is only one who is thoroughly acquainted with the evils of war that can thoroughly understand the profitable way of carrying it on.  
__-Sun Tzu, the Art of War_

"Second Lieutenant Nagase, report to my office immediately." The three weary pilots had hardly gotten out of their fighters when the hanger was filled with the sounds of the porcine commander.

"Good luck." One of the replacement pilots, named Hans Grimm, walks over to Chris as Nagase walks out. "What happened?"

For the moment, Chris ignores him. Instead he follows Nagase to the colonels' office. When he gets there, Nagase is already getting chewed out by Perrault.

"…so you thought it to be perfectly acceptable to let a Belkan command an operation!"

"Sir, we were in dire circumstances. I thought it best-"

"Well you thought wrong!"

A couple minuets latter, Nagase exits the office. She walks past Chris without even making eye contact. Never the less, he notices tears.

"Nagase. Nagase!" Chris follows her to the crew quarters. "Kei!"

"What!" It is obvious to Chris that she's upset. Not only the tears, but the expression on her face. It was the same expression she had when anyone asked about her boyfriend.

"What happened?"

Kei wiped the tears from her cheek, only for them to be replaced by more. "He chewed me out, that's what. He practically accused me of being a traitor for letting you lead. I have never felt like such a failure before in my life. Not even when you got better points at the Academy. I made the right decision; he just doesn't see it yet." Kei turns, resting her head on Chris' shoulder. Her tears begin to soak into his flight suit.

Chris timidly wraps his arms around her shoulders, trying to comfort her without crossing _that_ line.

Kei's dark eyes flash open suddenly. "Chris, I'm sorry." Quickly she pulls away from his embrace and turns and practically runs for her room, slamming the door behind her.

Chris stands there for a few stunned seconds, staring at her door. 'What just happened?'

* * *

The incessant electric buzzing of the air raid sirens jars Chris from a wonderful dream of him and Penny on the beach…all alone.

He stumbles his way out of bed, donning a simple pair of slacks and a tee-shirt before grabbing his boots. He scrambles out the door before either one is on. Down the hall, Kei is still wearing her slacks and light tee shirt she flies in, though her flight suit is still in the locker room. Chopper runs out of his room, looking quite ready to fly in his bag. All three run to the locker room, grabbing speed jeans and helmets, before sprinting to their fighters.

The three F-5s are lined up on the tarmac, armed with six missiles. None of the ground crew is to be seen. 'I hope Pops'll be safe.' Blaze vaults into his fighter; the third in line.

"Wardog scramble! Emergency launch, hurry!"

"Okay, guys. Skip the regular pre-flight. Let's get airborne."

Blaze waits impatiently for Chopper to start his plane. Finally, the irreverent pilot starts rolling. Edge has already reached the runway and is airborne. Chopper turns to go down the concrete strip.

"Hurry up and get airborne, the first wave has just past by," Pops impatiently prods the young pilot.

"Roger!" Blaze turns his fighter onto the runway and shoves the throttle forward. The little F-5 screams down the concrete, tearing itself from the ground.

"Blaze, protect our base!"

"Will do, Tower. Form up, Wardog." Directly in front of him are a pair of MiG-23MLD Floggers, each with a full load of air to air missiles. Above them are two Tu-160 Blackjacks, prepared to take out Sand Island Air Force Base.

"Edge, Chopper, find a target and kill it. Let's hope we can hold them off." Blaze turns to follow one of the Floggers, sending a Sidewinder up its tailpipe.

At wave top level, two Su-22M Fitter attack planes enter the combat zone. "Edge, go after the Fitters, Chopper and I will get the Blackjacks."

"Roger Blaze."

Blaze puts his fighter into a climb, lining up with the belly of the large swing wing bomber. He quickly fires some shells into the plane, and continuing his climb above the large aircraft. Looping around, Blaze sets himself squarely on the bomber's tail and fires a missile. It tracks its way up the tailpipe of the right nacelles, blowing off the wing and sending the plane cart wheeling.

To his right, Blaze sees Chopper's bomber fall to the ocean, its tail falling separately. The second Flogger, having bugged out earlier, renters the fight. Edge, having just loosed her second missile at the remaining large twin seat attacker, doesn't see him.

Blaze prepares to dive after him, hoping to get to him before he is anywhere near his friend.

"Look at the hanger!" Blaze swivels his head left quickly, not wanting to loose sight of his target. Rolling out of the last hanger is Captain Bartlett's spare fighter. The little F-5E taxies down the ramp, weaving about to avoid small craters and the occasional bit of shrapnel. "Who the hell pulled that out," the constantly irreverent Chopper asks no one in particular.

Except possibly the pilot on the ground. "This is Grimm, I'm taking off."

Blaze looks back to the MiG just as he turns to head back to Yuke airspace. 'I guess 1 to 4 odds aren't for you.' As the MiG passes the five mile mark, two MiG-29s replace it. 'Will this ever end?'

"Blaze, Grimm needs help. Are we just gonna sit and watch?"

"Hell no! Chopper, with me. Edge, go down and assist him."

"Roger." Edge brings her plane down almost parallel with the fourth fighter. Grimm blasts his plane down the concrete strip, becoming one with the sky.

"This is Airman 1st Class Grimm, call sign Archer. Control Tower and all aircraft, I will be joining the Wardog squadron."

The two MiGs pop up behind Edge and Archer. Blaze and Chopper turn to face them, diving head on at the fighters. Before either can fire, the SAM sight on then west end of the base fires four Patriot missiles, obliterating the pair.

"Sand Island, this is Colonel Ford. I'm out of fuel. Requesting permission to land." Five miles out, an F-4 heads in from McNealy Air Force Base. Ford, like the commander of the base, is a by the book bureaucrat, not someone suitable for combat.

"What are you insane?" The always irreverent Davenport quite possibly shot his mouth off one too many times.

"Second Lieutenant Davenport, is that you?"

A timid 'yes sir' is all he can muster.

"I'll make sure to write you up after I la-" An Adder medium range missile disintegrates the tail of the Phantom. A second missile hits moments later, destroying the nose and taking with it any chance of ejection. Four more MiG-29s and two more Tu-160s enter the area.

"Grimm Chopper, head for the MiGs, try to break them up. Edge, lets go get those Blackjacks." Blaze and Edge put their fighters into a climb to get above the bombers. Two of the MiGs head up before Chopper and Archer even get to them.

"Heads up, sir!" Archer gets behind a Fulcrum, and launches his first shot. It misses to the left.

Edge lines up behind her bomber and fires two Sidewinders at it, destroying everything from the chine on aft. She puts her fighter into a loop to get behind Blaze, and to get away from her MiG.

Below them, Chopper, having shot down his MiG, goes over to help Archer. The MiG dances ahead of the green pilot, who losses occasional cannon shells at the fighter. The right engine is out, and much of the tail unit is damage beyond repair, yet the Yuke pilot continues to fight for it. "Need any help?"

"No, I've got this. Go help the Captain and Nagase." Archer launches his second missile at the fighter, tearing off the left engine. "SPLASH ONE!"

Chopper puts his Tiger into a climb, just behind Edge and one of the MiGs. "Where's the other?"

"I don't know. I lost him."

"I got him." Blaze jinks his fighter violently, dodging shells. "He's really making killing this bomber hard." A muffled bang is heard over the radios.

"Blaze!" Edge looks over to her wingman, momentarily, then back to the MiG. A Sidewinder to the tail ends this fight.

"I'm okay. Just took an 'Archer' to the left wing. Oh Charlie Foxtrot! I lost control of my weapons on that side. My landing gear may be out too. I'm gonna need some help here."

"Roger." Edge and Chopper race to cover their friend. Chopper gets there first and fires at the MiG, destroying it.

"Your six is clear, Kid."

"Thanks. Where's Grimm." Blaze swivels his head about, but doesn't see the nugget's fighter anywhere.

"This is Archer, engaging last Blackjack." The small blue painted plane accelerates straight up at the bomber's belly. Archer fires his twenty millimeter cannons into the weapons bay. The large craft detonates, throwing pieces of aircraft aluminum and burning fuel everywhere.

"Nice shot Grim!" Blaze has the flight form up over the base to do a mutual damage check. Archer suffered minor damage while taking off, but nothing that isn't easily repaired. Both Edge and Chopper took significant damage from cannon fire, most likely from the ground based gunners. Though repairable, they will be down for a few days while waiting for replacement panels. Blaze's fighter needs a new left wing. When he goes to lower the landing gear, Edge reports that the left side does not lower, but instead a pinkish liquid, hydraulic fluid, leaks out.

"You three land first. I land once the runway is clear." The other three Wardog pilots all land without any mishap.

Blaze lines up with the runway, dropping the remainder of his external stores into the sea. He raises his gear and lowers the emergency hook on the tail. Though the arrestor wires are not currently installed on the runway, it will allow him to judge his distance to the ground. He could go with the gear lowered, but hopefully the plane can be fixed, so why destroy the gear for no reason?

"Looking good, Blaze. Just keep her nice and level." Nagase jet sits parked at the mid point of the runway.

'I better not run into her.' "Edge, you may want to move your figther."

"I trust you."

Blaze lowers his fighter to ten feet, lowering the flaps and air breaks. At four feet, the tail hook hits the pavement, jostling the fighter. Pulling the throttles back, Blaze sets the belly of the fighter down in a shower of sparks. As he pulls the stick into his chest, grinding the tail planes into the runway, Blaze pulls the throttles past the idle section. The twin jets shut themselves off, killing much of the fighter's energy. Finally, the stricken Tiger slows to a stop; bits of metal littering the runway behind it.

The canopy lifts itself from the jet as Chris unstraps from the plane. For an agonizing moment, Chris remains seated, unsure if what he is feeling is euphoria or fatigue. 'How many pilots can claim they walked away from a crash like that?' Climbing out of the striken fighter, the pilot tosses his helmet to the ground and begins his slow walk off of the runway. Ground crew, mechanics, and pilots swarm around him, congradulating him on his safe landing, but he hears none of them.

* * *

Chris walks into the locker room, setting his helmet on the bench next to his locker. Sitting down on the bench in the middle of the room, Amsel lowers his tired, sweating body, pretending the world doesn't exist for but a moment.

For a few agonizing and serene seconds, Chris could swear he hears his drops of sweat falling to the floor. A light tapping sound wakes him from his peace.

"Amsel?" Nagase walks in, still dressed in her clothes she flew in. Her shirt and slacks are sweat soaked and clinging to her skin. "H-hey, Nagase." Chris quickly looks away, hoping to not get caught in an awkward moment.

"You okay?" She sits down next to his helmet, and looks into his locker. The picture of Penny immediately catches her attention. She knew he is engaged, looks to his left hand, and sees his ring; she also doesn't see half of his pinky. 'How did that happen?' Quickly, Nagase looks back at Chris.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" She nods. "You saw my finger, didn't you?" He holds up his left hand. Again she nods.

"I guess I don't remember seeing it before."

Chris sits up. "It's okay. I lost it in a fight." He didn't have to say what the fight was about. Nagase knew he was big on standing up for others.

"Doesn't it affect your flying?"

He shakes his head. "Not enough to stop me. If you want to know, I'm kind of proud of it."

That gets her attention. "Why?"

"I was protecting Penny from some gang members. I have other scars from that fight, not just this one. That was the night Penny kissed me for the first time. And I've been by her side ever since."

Chris smiles as he thinks about his girlfriend and soon to be mother of his child.

* * *

_-28 September, 2010_

"Here's your bars, _Captain_." Perrault nearly throws a small wooden box at Chris as he reclines in the ready room. He doesn't stick around, either, beating a hasty retreat to his office to sulk.

"What?" Chris looks about the room, seeing the surprise on his friend's faces.

"You've been promoted due to your valor in combat, specifically above St. Hewlet and while protecting the base. In fact, High Command decided that you performed and lead so well that you deserved a two rank promotion." Captain Hamilton didn't have to add that usually a two rank promotion only happened posthumously.

* * *

"Captain!" Behind Chris, the journalist Albert Gennette runs to catch up with the newly promoted captain.

"Hey Gennette, what's up?" Chris continues walking to his quarters. Though where he rooms is not changing, he is getting Bartlett's office just off the ready room. Amsel has already moved most of his things; all that is left are a couple of boxes.

"I was wondering if I could interview you and the other pilots for an article."

Chris picks up the last box and turns to head back to the office. "Sure, any time you want"

"Well, I have some time right now, that is if you're not busy."

"Yeah, I could now. Is there anywhere in particular that you want to go to do this?"

"I'll have everything set up in the hanger in fifteen minuets."

* * *

"This is Captain Christoph Amsel, commanding officer of the 108th Tactical Fighter Squadron, also known as 'Wardog.' The Captain's call sign is 'Blaze.' He is twenty three years old and has a score of seventeen, making him the first triple ace in the Osean Air Defense Force since the last war."

Gennette has set up three video cameras in the hanger around the young captain's fighter. To make the interview more interesting, the journalist has Chris sitting on the top of the boarding ladder for his F-5. "So, Captain, could you tell me about yourself; you know: family, where you're from, why you chose this career, stuff like that."

"Well, I've had a tough run of things. It all started in March of '95. The war had just begun and my father, the son of a Belkan immigrant named Erich Amsel, was out at sea on duty."

The journalist has to pick his jaw up off the floor. "Your grandfather is the highest scoring ace _ever_?"

"Yeah. He defected because he wanted to be an honorable man and marry my grandmother. As for my father, he was a pilot on the OFS_ Condor_. They were in Oured Bay when Mirage F-1s of the Belkan Air Force fired upon them. He had the chance to get out, but instead stayed behind to help fight the fires that were ravaging the ship. I get my sense of duty from him."

"What about the rest of your family?"

"I have a twin sister named Eva. She is currently studying to be a doctor and will be getting married this coming June. My two other siblings, Katherine and Geoffrey, are still in high school. Katie will soon be going to college. Geoff is just content with being a teen. From what my last letter said, things in Bremmen, my home town, have been pretty quiet."

"What about your mother?"

"She was diagnosed with cancer a year and a half ago. She found out the first time seven year to the day after dad died. It's been rough for her, especially since we though she beat it. That is a big reason why Eva is going into medicine. It is also a big reason why my uncle Vince is pushing for more funding in the study of cancer cures."

"Your uncle Vince?"

"Vincent Harling."

Gennette's jaw nearly falls through the floor this time. "Really?"

"Yeah. When I got to the Academy, that was a big burden. Many people thought that the only reason I was there was because I have relatives in high places. They were surprised when I started beating them in mock combat."

"I've been told that you carry two photos with you at all times. Why is that?"

Chris reaches into his flight suit's right breast pocket and pulls out his photo. "It's a picture of Penelope Davis, my fiancée."

"What about the other?"

Chris pulls out a simple black and white image. "It's an ultrasound picture of my son. The day I found out was the happiest of my life."

"You have a lot to live for then."

Chris looks at the pictures of his family, and smiles. "Yeah, I guess I do."


	7. Nostalgia

* * *

_I think you've made a mistake. We're not heroes._

_-William Moseley as Peter Pevensie_

_-29 September, 2010_

Chris steps out of the locker room, dressed to fly. Today the squadron gets their new aircraft to replace the F-5s they had been flying.

Eight F-14D Tomcats, fresh from McNealy Air Force Base, sit on the tarmac. Each one is emblazoned with the blue and white star of Osea, and a white stripe running diagonally below the cockpit.

Four gray twin tailed fighters sit on the tarmac in front of the hangers. Each has two 'M' variant Sidewinders on the glove pylon rails and two AIM-120 Advanced Medium Range Air to Air Missiles, or AMRAAM, on the main glove pylon mount. They are also known as the Slammer, since they knock out fighters like clubbing baby seals. Originally, the F-14 was not designed to carry the AMRAAM, instead, it was to carry AIM-7 Sparrows. But Sparrows haven't been made for nearly over a decade, so while the planes where at McNealy, they were upgraded. Now the glove pylon is stressed to carry air to ground ordinance as well. The ventral fuselage mounts have also been improved.

'Gremlin' Jefferson is already looking over the nearest Tomcat, number 016. Though he trusts his RIO, Chris will still perform his own walk around.

"Are these ours?" Grimm runs out, climbing up the ladder of the fourth fighter and leaps into the cockpit.

"Yep, and they'll be put to use immediately."

Nagase and Davenport walk up. "What's the mission, Kid?"

"We're escorting the carriers through the Eaglin Strait."

* * *

_-30 September, 2010_

"We've got it made in the shade now." Four Tomcats, loaded with two Sidewinders, two Slammers, and four AIM-54 Phoenix missiles fly over the three flat tops. After the stop over at McNealy, the pilots met with a tanker half way to the rendezvous point.

Eight other fighters are currently orbiting above the ships, protecting them for airborne and maritime attacks. There is even an S-3 Viking snooping about for subs. On each of the carriers, four F-14D Tomcat fighters stand at "Alert-5," ready to launch in a moment's notice.

'But there shouldn't be any opposition. This is a milk run; something that'll look good on a résumé. Maybe we'll get some new toys to play with, like that IRST that Navy Super Hornets are supposed to be getting soon.'

"Everyone's starting to leave, can we go yet?" Chopper, in the number three position off Blaze's right wing whines, again, to the AWACS. Ever since leaving McNealy AFB, the only thing on his mind was going back to base.

"Wardog, remain above the _Kestrel_ and wait for the tanker craft." The KC-10 from the air base is three minutes late.

"Hey…what is that? Is my radar on the fritz?"

"It's showing up on mine, too," Gremlin says. Blaze looks down at the radar screen. If Archer and Chopper are seeing something on their screen, then maybe…

"I got them to. Can't identify them yet. Call Thunderhead."

The call never gets out. "All aircraft return to your combat air patrol stations." On the screen, the radar image changes as the radar from the E-767 links with all the aircraft. Two Yak-38 Forger V/STOL fighters dive on the ships from 20,000 feet. Under their wings are two Archer missiles and two rocket pods.

"Wardog, turn and engage!" The four fighters turn and climb. At three thousand feet out, Blaze and Archer both let loose a salvo of 20 mm ammunition. Archer's fighter takes the majority of the hits on the cockpit, while Blaze's ingests it into the intake, ripping out the engine.

Two more pairs of Forgers move in at low lever. One pair is to the front of the formation, and the other moving in from the stern.

"Guys split up. Chopper, you and Archer go for the western pair. Edge, with me." Blaze leads his wingman, 'wing_woman_ to be exact,' out above the lead ship, the _Vulture_. Beneath them, the two bandits continue on, not realizing who is above. Blaze and Edge drop down to wave top height behind them. Each one fires a single heat seeking missile, both finding their mark.

"This is Chopper, bagged both of them. Any more?"

"Wardog, there are two more Yak-38s to the east, just above the water. We also have three unknown fighters behind them."

Beneath the fighters, members of VFA-206 launch. Leading them is Captain Snow. Before Wardog can turn and engage the last two Forgers, two monstrous AIM-45 Phoenix missiles obliterate the miniscule fighters.

"Wow! Those missile might as well be bigger than the Forgers. There's nothing left of them!"

Blaze stares in momentary shock. Chopper was right, there's nothing left. 'Note to self: always carry Phoenixes.'

The three unknown fighters, now identified as Yak-141 Freestyles, get within range to launch anti ship missiles. A second F-14 launches two of the long range missiles at the attackers. One finds its target, while the second hits just behind and below, not quite destroying the fighter. A Sparrow semi-active radar guided missile from the Tomcat ends the Yuke fighter's career.

Archer, not waiting for an order from Blaze, dives on the remaining Freestyle. Though boxy looking, the V/STOL fighter is quite agile. Archer fights to stay on his six, trying for a Sidewinder shot. While performing his dance, he fires off rounds of cannon fire.

Three more Freestyles appear well east of the fleet, preparing to fire off long range missiles. Without waiting for Archer to return from his little fight, Blaze, Edge and Chopper head out to intercept.

"Set up a Phoenix shot." Blaze selects the Slave mode for the missile control. Ahead of him, nearly dead on, is a single Freestyle. The missile growls happily at Blaze a mere moment before he launches the weapon. Three beefy missiles fly true to their targets, knocking them out of the overcast sky.

"Archer, where are you?"

The young aviator brings his Tomcat into formation with the squadron. "Sorry, Captain."

"Did you get him?"

"Roger."

"Ballistic missile approaching!" Above them, at roughly fifty thousand feet and falling fast, is a small glowing dot. At five thousand feet, it separates then explodes. Everything within a mile is hit. Fighters fall out of the sky, and small ships are critically damaged.

"Everyone, get above five thousand feet." Blaze and his pilots climb like crazy, reaching ten thousand feet, just in case. Just then, a second missile explodes. Behind them is Captain Snow.

"All surviving aircraft, respond." Only two ships survived: the _Kestrel _and the destroyer _Naiad_.

"This is Swordsman, I'm okay. Looks like the Wardog squad made it, too."

Wardog forms up above the wreckage of the two carriers. 'This is pathetic. All that work for nothing. How can we win a war with a super power without the ability to park an airfield where we please. And why the hell did we think it was smart to hide them like cowards.'

"Wardog, we can't get a tanker to your. Divert to Heirelark Air Force Base."

* * *

They arrived over the base right as a snow storm hit. They landed in a staggered formation, just like they were trained to do when they were here last. The pilots taxi their fighters to the awaiting hanger. Inside stands a middle aged man dressed in a heavy trench coat.

"Welcome back to Heirelark."

"I wish I could say it is good to be back, Colonel." Blaze steps down off of his fighter and salutes Colonel Mark Howard. The graying man of 49 had flown during the Belkan war, earning ace hood over the "Round Table."

"We have limited housing available, but there are two twin room dorms. Will that be all right?"

Chris sighs, "It will have to be." The Colonel calls an aide over, who then leads the four weary pilots and four equally weary RIOs to their rooms. Grimm, Davenport and their crew are assigned to one room, and Chris, Nagase and their RIOs get the other.

Once in the small rooms, the flyers remove their flight suits and set down their flying gear. Jefferson and Tate, Nagase's RIO, head for their assigned room. Chris walks over to one of the beds, takes of two of the blankets and a pillow, and goes to leave.

"Where are you going?" Chris looks back to Nagase. She looks genuinely worried.

"I though that I might go sack out in the ready room; you know, so you could have some privacy. And so I can think" He looks at her, trying to read her expression. "You all right?"

Nagase nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just…I guess I'm just a little rattled."

"Yeah, seeing explosions like that was pretty unnerving." Chris opens the door to the room. "Well, goodnight." With that he steps out into the hall, leaving Nagase alone.

* * *

Nagase couldn't get to sleep. They had been at Heierlark for four and a half hours; not long enough to forget what had happened.

Getting up, Nagase decides to go for a walk. She wanders to the ready room. Inside, a television is turned to the History Channel, showing a special on some ancient peoples long gone. Across from the T.V., sprawled out on the couch, is her captain.

Quietly, Nagase walks over, and covers her captain with the blanket that has fallen on the floor. With that, she turns to go back to her room.

* * *

_-1 October, 2010_

Two hours later, a very drowsy Nagase exited her room. In the hall, seemingly waiting for her was Grimm.

"Good morning Lieutenant Nagase." The young pilot hands her a mug full of coffee.

"Thanks." She takes a drink, hoping the caffeine will kick in quickly. "Have you seen the Captain."

"He's in the hanger. Actually, he's the one who sent me. He said you were up late last night and that you might need some help getting going."

'That was thoughtful of him.' "Does he want us to work with the new pilots?"

"He has the nuggets already assembled and looking over their planes. We're supposed to meet him in the hanger with our planes."

The two pilots walk down the hall to the ready room. There they grab their jackets before heading to the hanger. Though they are supposed to be heated, both pilots know that nothing at Heierlark stays heated for long in the winter.

Inside the well lit hanger sit the four F-14D Tomcats. The farthest one is Amsel's, and a small crowd has gathered about it. Above the whine of a compressor, Nagase can hear Chopper.

"Beautiful! Make sure you save some of that talent for mine, okay?"

On the left side of the fighter is one of the mechanics, armed with an airbrush. A beautiful angel, dressed in white and ascending, adorns the space just beneath the cockpit. The mechanic is putting the finishing touches on the name beneath the angel: Penny.

"Nice work Harper. What's the going rate these days?" Amsel fishes out his wallet.

"Back in '95 I charged by the hour, and according to how many colors I used. Let's say forty bucks an hour." The thirty seven year old mechanic begins to clean out his airbrush in preparation to work on the next plane.

"Hundred twenty, right?" He nods and Chris hands him the cash.

"Okay, who's next?"

Chris looks at Nagase. "Your plane is next in line. You know what you want yet, or should we let Motormouth go first?" He smiles at his fellow pilot.

"You should probably do Chopper's first." Harper moves to the third Tomcat, the mechanics and pilots following him. Chopper begins to describe what he want on the plane.

"All I need it to say is 'Hurry Home Honey!'"

"You got it, sir."

"May I ask why, sir?" Grimm stands beside Davenport, waiting his turn.

Chopper smiles at his wingman. "Simple, really. That is how my wife signs all her letters."

Nagase walks over to Amsel, who is still admiring the artwork on his plane. "Is this why I couldn't find you this morning?"

"Yep. I figured that since we are the most experience pilots around; why not do as the great aces did in past wars. We could've even painted kills on the plane, but I was able to order some decals for that purpose. We should get them when we get back to Sand Island."

For a few awkward seconds, Nagase wonders if she should say something.

"Kei, thanks." She looks at him, confused. "I wouldn't want anyone else on my wing looking out for me."

* * *

**AIM-54 Phoenix**: Known as the "Buffalo" for its size, the Phoenix is one of the largest air launched missiles ever. It was designed to be carried by the Tomcat exclusively. It has its own radar, which is powerful enough to track six targets all by it self.

**Alert-5**: When a carrier borne aircraft sits at the catapult, poised to launch within a given amount of time, such as 5 minutes.

**Glove**: The inboard most portion of the F-14's wing. It is fixed, and houses the pivot for the moving outer section. It is also where the landing gear and some of the weapons are found.

**LANTIRN**: An abbreviation for "Low Altitude Navigation and Targeting Infrared for Night." Like a flashlight for aircraft, allowing them to see even on the darkest of nights. It is also useful on attack missions.


	8. High Expectations

* * *

_So it begins. _

–_Bernard Hill as King__Th__éoden_

_-3 October, 2010_

Four F-14D Tomcats and twelveF-5E Tigers glide gracefully through the skies. Well, almost gracefully. The Nuggets have quite the time trying to keep their fully loaded fighters in the air. Each carries four AIM-9M missiles, two Mk. 82 bombs and a centerline drop tank. Blaze chose to sacrifice some performance for the ability to hit targets, just in case. He had the Tomcats armed with two AIM-9Ms on the glove pylon, two AIM-120 AMRAAMS on the main glove mount, and four JDAMs on the ventral pylons.

"Okay, crew, last stop." Blaze lowers the landing gear and flaps, making his final approach to McNealy Air Force Base. Since the nuggets are not yet finished with their training, they don't have a grasp on mid-air refueling. Because of this, the squadron has had to stop at every base between Heierlark and Sand Island. McNealy is the last in that lineup.

As soon as they land, the pilots taxi their thirsty jets over to awaiting fuel bowsers. The pilots raised their canopies to get out for a much needed stretch; they hadn't been out of their seats since Heierlark.

"Good afternoon, Captain." Standing next to the built in ladder of the Captain's Tomcat is General Howard "Howie" Corduan, the commander of the air base. The aging fighter pilot is well known for his fatherly outlook toward his crews. This sense of responsibility is extended to anyone on his base.

"Afternoon, General. Sorry about taking up tarmac space." The general just smiles.

"Actually, Captain, I was wondering if you and your pilots could come down to the briefing room. It appears that there is a mission of extreme importance. If necessary, I may need to ask you to fly with my squadrons."

Blaze wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Yippee."

* * *

In the briefing room, Chris sits with his back against the wall. His pilots sit in front of him. He decided to sit in the back for two reasons. One, so that he could see their reactions. The second is so that no one could see his tired expression.

Also in the room are the 56th and 357th Tactical Fighter Squadrons, as is the 34th Bombardment Squadron. The 34th, or "Thunderbirds," is without a doubt the oldest squadron in the room. Soon to be one hundred years old, the 34th flies B-52 'BUFFs.' For a moment, Chris wonders if they may be used for that stand off jamming mission that the tacticians had wanted to assign them to.

The plan is simple; from both sides. The Yukes have approximately twelve aircraft in bound to Basset Space Center. Four of these planes are confirmed as An-12 "Cub" transports, very likely carrying armored personnel carriers. They are likely going to attempt to take the Center before the SSTO can be launched.

The mission for the pilots is, supposedly, easy. All they have to do is keep the enemy aircraft from attacking the base, and keep all possible APCs in the cargo planes. Hopefully while they are falling into the ocean.

Both the 56th and 357th are well prepared for this. The 56th, the 'Wolfpack,' flies F-15E Strike Eagles. They will be carrying AGM-65 Maverick missiles along with the usually air to air load of four AIM-9s and AIM-120 each.

The 357th is equally ready. Saddling up in F-22A Raptors, the 'Leiston Eagles' will be carrying two AIM-9X Sidewinders and six AIM-120C AMRAAMS. The 'X' Sidewinder is the latest in western dogfight missile technology. With all aspect capability, and thrust vectoring, this latest 'snake' will easily hit its target. The 'C' variant of the AMRAAM is nearly identical to the standard missile, except for smaller fins. This allows for the ability to carry two more in the center bay than with standard 'Slammers.'

Finally, General Corduan stands up. "All aircraft, including those refueling at this base, are under my command. All untrained pilots are barred from taking off. Those guys are still kids."

Chris shifts in his seat. 'Did he just go out of his way to make sure that they don't get killed? Why can't I transfer here? It would be so much nicer.'

The pilots begin to file out, heading to locker rooms and aircraft. Chris stays in his seat. After everyone left, Corduan walks up to him.

"You okay, son?"

Chris looks up at him. "Yeah. I'm just afraid this is the start of something."

The General smiles, "They call it war." Chris smiles, too.

"That's not what I mean, sir. I'm wondering if my squadron and I will keep getting these 'impossible' missions. We aren't super heroes, contrary to whatever that article said."

Corduan pats him on the shoulder. "You're turning out to be a fine commander, Amsel. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

* * *

_I was right. That was the beginning of something. There were many missions after that one that some politician or some 'armchair general' decided was vital to the war effort. Each one got more and more difficult to complete. And each time, we were asked to complete those missions with less and less resources. And less men. At one point, only us 'Four Wings' would be sent out to do the job of a whole squadron._

_When I wrote Jonah about that, he told me to get used to it. _When you're an ace of our caliber those in command actually believe you could end a war all by yourself. While I know that it can be done, under the right conditions and with support, I hope you never have to experience that burden.

_I wrote to him a lot, especially after we returned to Sand Island. But, again, I am getting ahead of the story._

_The fight above Basset Space Center is almost not worth mentioning. We had the Yukes out gunned from the get go. Four _Cubs_ flew in from the south, in general. They dispersed while out over the water, heading in from four separate directions toward the Center. Inside each was a single BMD-1 troop carrying vehicle. The transports descended to just above the ground that it looked that they were landing. At least that was how it looked to me. I was up at angels 20, flying top cover for the other fighters. _

_It was decided that the transports would be easy targets, especially while unloading. The 56__th__ went in first, two of the big fighters following each transport. As the lumbering plane dropped its armored cargo, the Strike Eagles fired their missiles at the BMDs. None of them survived._

_As the F-15Es clawed their way up, the An-12s ran for the safety of their fighter cover. Ten MiG-21-93s and fourSu-22Ms were flying in toward the Center._

_As top cover, I ordered that we fire AMRAAMs at the formation. Eight of the mighty missiles flew out to the formation, downing one 'Fitter' and six 'Fishbeds.' Below us, the 357__th__ fired eight missiles as well. All four of the transports fell, as did another Su-22 and three more MiGs._

_At that point, we were told by a radar controller that there were four large aircraft at the edge of our engagement zone. Each was armed with three cruise missiles, and they would be in firing position soon._

_I ordered the squad to split up and use the Phoenixes. When we each reached our targets, Tu-22M 'Backfires,' we fired two of the 'Buffaloes.'_

_All three of the large swing-wing bombers went down. But not before two fired their missiles. There were six cruise missiles inbound: half from the south, and half from the north. Chopper and Archer zapped the south trio with their remaining AIM-54s before they crossed the coastline. Edge and I were after the north three. We salvoed off our last two Phoenix missiles each. Both of Nagase's hit their targets. For some unknown reason, both of mine collided while intercepting._

_Horrified, I raced after the last cruise missile, Jefferson yelling at me all the way. He wanted to know what I was going to do. He was also quick to remind me that he was not going to be part of a ramming attack. While that never crossed my mind, I really hadn't thought of what I would do._

_At two miles from the Center, I finally got close enough to spray the missile with some cannon fire. While I did score a few hits, I did not knock it out of the sky. The count down to launch the SSTO had reach the last ten seconds when the missile dived and plowed itself into one of the pylons holding up the mass driver. I could see a huge crater, and a large chunk of reinforce concrete falling off of the pillar._

_But the SSTO launched as if nothing had happened._

_When we landed at McNealy, all the nuggets and pilots ran out to congratulate us. There were a few reporters there as well. It seemed that everyone wanted to talk to the 'Four Wings of Sand Island.' I just went and hid in the locker room until my fighter was refueled and the squadron was ready to head home._

* * *

Upon returning to the base, they found no fanfare or congratulators. Instead Perrault was there, waiting for Blaze to get out of his fighter.

"Amsel, what is your policy on who is fit to fly?"

Chris just stood there, unsure of whether he was being asked a question, or being accused of something.

"Why did you allow sixteen highly capable pilots to sit on the tarmac with their heads up their butts?"

"Sir, a superior officer barred them from flying into a potentially hazardous combat zone. Since these pilots are still very green, and have yet to master even mid-air refueling, I agreed with him. There were enough aircraft available that we were not needed, but since we carried the longest ranged missiles available, we were asked to provide top cover. Thanks to our efforts, and the intelligence of General Corduan, we were able to keep the Space Center from taking serious damage."

Nagase stands next to the nose of Chris' fighter, amazed at what is happening. When the Colonel accused Bartlett of anything, he would cut the Captain off while he was explaining. It seems that since the squadron succeeded, he is a little hesitant to reprimand them. At least for now.

* * *

_-4 October, 2010_

"Bah, you people are like the plague, you know that?" The arrogant, porcine colonel stands at the front of the ready room, conducting another of his "briefings," though Chris things they've become more like propaganda.

Apparently, the Yuke Navy decided that they could occupy the island. A fleet of five landing vessels, each with six hovercraft type landing craft, are headed toward the lone air base. The support fleet is immense. The latest estimate stated that are six destroyers, four cruisers, nine frigates, four missile boats, two carriers, and several other support vessels. This does not include aircraft. It is assumed that the Yuke carriers are loaded with ten MiG-29Ks and at least eight Mi-24 Hind attack helos.

And all that Sand Island has to field are eight F-15Cs, four F-14Ds and twelve F-5Es.

Chopper leans over and whispers to his leader. "Of course, the Eagles will be top cover. Perrault'll probably keep them from joining the party."

"Yeah."

Nagase rolls her eyes. Of course, her squadron mates are right, but still, bad mouthing the colonel while at a briefing is not a good idea.

"Even if this turns into a ground war, I am willing to fight to the bitter end."

"Yeah, too bad you can't hit anything with that pistol of yours." Quickly, Chris elbows the irreverent pilot, stopping him before he _really_ gets himself in trouble.

The briefing ends and the squadrons break up to get prepared to defend their home. Chris walks to the back of the room, where Pops stands silently.

"What'd'ya think's the best load for this, Colonel?"

Pops stares of into space for a moment will the room empties. "I'd load Mavericks on the outboards of the Tigers, and high explosives inboard. For the 'Cats, I'd put Paveways beneath, and have Phoenixes on the wings."

Chris dwells on it a little, and nods. "How about this, split the weapons for the nuggets. Half carry Mavericks on the outboards, the others carry the old Zuni pods and they go after the big LSTs. I think the JDAMs might work better than the LGBs for this mission, since the targets are smaller. It sure would be nice to have a Harpoon capable craft on the island. Even a Navy Orion would be better than nothing."

"I hear ya, Blaze. But, beggars can't be choosers."

* * *

Arranged in a large diamond formation, the fighters of the 108th fly out to intercept the invasion fleet. Blaze had gone over the plan with the nuggets. Each flight would be lead by one of the four veterans. They would each split up and take a section of the ships. The Tigers carrying the rockets would attack the landing ships, hopefully damaging it before any hovercraft can be launched. After that, anything in the water was fair game.

Blaze led his flight against the incoming wave. The nuggets Blaze had were all nervous. Kyle 'Ducky' Matthews and Grant 'G-Mac' McIntyre were flying second string, carrying the Maverick/Mk. 82 combination. Ahead of them, Elizabeth 'Spitfire' Garret and Alexander 'Beamer' Stabler were armed with the Zuni rocket pods. Leading the arrowhead was Blaze and Gremlin in their Tomcat.

"Beamer, Spitfire, arm your rockets and go in for the landing ships. You will begin your pass after I get a shot at the Gecko on the front."

"Yes-s-s-sir."

"You, nervous, kid?"

"Yes. Uh, Captain?"

"Yeah Beamer?"

"Do you ever get scared?" Blaze smiles under his oxygen mask.

"All the time. How about you, Gremlin?"

"Ha, every time you fly." The nuggets laugh at Jefferson's jab at the Captain. Blaze smiles, now knowing that they should be ready for anything.

'I hope.'

Blaze dives down on the grey hulk sliding across the water. At four hundred feet out, he fires his cannon at the missile launcher on the front end. The crew was too busy ducking to fire back. The SA-8 magazine caught fire and ripped open the front deck of the vulnerable ship. Spitfire and Beamer dive in next, salvoing their rockets at the port side of the ship. Most hit amidships, while a few miss wide and hit the aft end and the hovercraft that is being unloaded.

A second hovercraft, on the right side of the ship, tries to make a run for the shore. Beamer wheels around and dives on it. Ignoring the light fire from the second frigate and landing ship, the young nugget blasts at the small craft with his cannon, sending it to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. In his excitement, Stabler advances his throttle into Zone 5, and shatters the windows on the ships nearby.

"Great shot, Boomer!" Half a second after the words leave his mouth, Blaze realizes that he renamed the nugget. 'Oh well. It's a better name anyhow.'

Ducky and G-Mac move in, zeroing on the hovercraft already away from the ship. While they do that, Spitfire returns to attack the second frigate.

Not to be left out of the fun, Blaze arms the JDAMs. The landing ship has stubbornly not sunk; in fact, it is still trying to launch craft. 'Too bad. You came all this way for nothing.' Blaze releases the munition, hitting the ship just above the water line. The explosion tears apart the hull, and the ship starts to sink. "Scratch one troop ship."

Half a mile away, Edge and her flight eliminate their targets as well. "Captain?"

"Yeah, Edge?"

His fellow aviator hesitates for a moment. "I can't help but feel like we're being set up."

"I know what you mean…" Blaze lets his voice trail off; his thoughts go to that gut-freezing feeling that one gets when they know something bad is about to happen. To his right, both Archer and Chopper complete their runs against the enemy ships.

"Missile fired from enemy sub!" The usually calm young woman flying number two frantically warns her squadron mates. Immediately, she puts her Tomcat in a screaming climb.

"Pull up! Everyone get above five thousand feet!"

Blaze hesitates, looking about. To the west, he sees the contrail of a multiple burst missile. Dumbfounded, Blaze just stares as the deliverer of the metal rain flies higher.

"Hey, Amsel! Are we gonna go, or sit here and be toasted!?"

Blaze snaps out of it as the missile begins it's meteoric decent; right on top of his position. He stands the large fighter on its tail and shoves the throttles forward. The F-110 engines scream and hurl the Tomcat higher into the sky. As they pass three thousand feet, the missile is in view.

'We're not going to make it.' Chris looks at the picture of Penny taped to the HUD's side. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, a silvery beam pierces the sky. It reaches down from the heavens and strikes the missile, vaporizing it.

"Kid, did you see that light?"

Blaze blinks in astonishment. He's alive. "Yeah, Chopper. It was right next to me."

"Was that the Arkbird?" Thunderhead confirms that the Arkbird has a laser onboard.

'So, the tide turns in our direction.' Blaze pivots his fighter, preparing to go after the next landing ship. ""Ducky, G-Mac, Boomer, Spitfire, arm your bombs. We're going hunting."

The Tomcat dives straight down. Blaze releases his second JDAM, aiming right down the stack of the large ship. 'Say goodnight, Gracie.' The back half of the ship lifts itself free of the hull as the engines and fuel erupt in an immense fireball.

An anti submarine plane, probably a P-3 that was at McNealy, reports that the sub that launched the missiles matches the Scinfaxi. Chopper is too stunned to swear.

"What'll we do, Captain?"

"We'll deal with the sub when we need to, alright Grimm?" The young pilot responds affirmative. Blaze turns and leads his flight to attack one of the cruisers that are at the back of the formation.

"They're launching more missiles! Number three, number four! There's too many of them!"

Blaze angles the large fighter skyward and climbs for all he's worth. "All pilots, head for above angels five!"

"Climb kids, go, go, go!" Chopper, Edge and Archer are right behind their captain. Behind them are the nuggets. The first missile streaks past before anyone is near safety. Thankfully, the Arkbird dispatches with that one.

The second missile drops down to burst altitude right as the four veteran pilots cross the five thousand feet mark. Blaze looks back and sees his squadron; they still have a thousand feet to go. He makes a career changing decision. "All pilots below five thousand feet, align you plane horizontally and eject on my mark!" The nuggets rotate their craft.

"What are you doing?! They'll all be killed! Are you insane?!" All seven people with Blaze question him at once. One, Chopper, stands out. "Kid, what the hell are you thinking?! You're even worse than Perrault."

Blaze ignores them all; instead he watches the missile drop. 'Just a few more seconds…' Right as the missile passes six thousand feet, Blaze calls out to the nuggets. "All pilots eject now!" Twenty two chairs launch themselves into the air. One pilot, Robert Kenny, ejects too late, and is incinerated in the explosion. Another, Donald Howard, was not high enough when he ejected, and his parachute was burned off. Three pilots, David Rowling, Elizabeth Garret, and Brian Pierce, did not eject. Five pilots killed by the submarine Scinfaxi.

Chris looks down at the eleven parachutes floating to the water. 'I was able to save them.'

The four Tomcats descend to one thousand feet, orbiting around the spots where the nuggets landed. While Chopper and Archer give Thunderhead and the rescue teams the locations, Edge and Blaze try to contact the downed pilots on the emergency radios. Most of the nuggets don't respond immediately, but once they do, they report that they are all right. A few do not respond at all, but they do wave to the pilots.

"Yo, Kid!"

"Yeah, Chopper?" Blaze looks over to his left, where Chopper and Archer are flying.

"That sub patrol plane is says the sub's coming up. They don't have any weapons on board, so we'll need to hit it."

Blaze looks around, seeing combat ships all around them. "Did he say where?"

"Not yet. They're dropping more of those pinging things to find it."

Looking down at his instruments, Blaze sees that he still has two JDAMs and all of his missiles. "Let's take out some of the support ships first. That way we'll have less surface to air to worry about." The other three pilots give they're okay and Blaze turns the formation to the south. The nearest ship is a destroyer. It's SAM and cannon turrets swivel to fire at the four planes. Archer dives ahead of the group, planting a JDAM just aft of the bridge, cracking the center of the ship.

As the fighters peel away and head for the next ship, the patrol plane radios that the Scinfaxi is surfacing.

"It's huge!" Blaze can only stare in shock and agree with the irreverent Chopper. At over two hundred feet long, and as wide as an aircraft carrier, the Scinfaxi is one of the largest ships ever. Beneath the dark grey hull are two squadrons, one of Yak-38 Forgers and one of Yak-141 Freestyles, respectively. There are also the missile silos for the multiple burst missiles. There may even be nuclear tipped ICBMs, among other nasty surprises.

"Wardog engage!" Above them, with his God's-eye-view, the AWACS gives them a simple objective, and no other help.

"Wardog, climb to angels 15 and stand by. Lets assess what we're up against." Blaze has his squadron climb above the ship, and also well above the altitude where the multiple burst missiles will kill them. "What do you see?"

"Hold on a second." Chopper's back seat, a Lieutenant John "Opera" Driscoll, takes out his binoculars to look over the ship. "I see four triple A emplacements; probably 23 millimeter. There are also three SAMs; two are Geckos and a Gainful. I also see an aircraft launch ramp on the stern with two Forgers just launched."

"Any sign of missile tubes?"

The baritone hums to him self while looking. "No, not that I can see. There are no markings painted on the ship, nor are there any visible seams or doors. No wait, one just opened forward of the conning tower." As he says that, a missile streaks into the upper atmosphere.

"Blaze, it looks like the magazines are just forward of the tower."

"Yeah." Blaze looks over to his wing. "You sound like you have an idea, Edge. Let's here it."

Quickly, the young woman explains her plan. One pilot will fly down first, dropping on the anti-air sights. Behind him, his squadron mates will follow, blasting some of the sites and dropping bombs into whatever missile silo is opened.

"Sound good. Any volunteers to play chicken with the SAMs?"

Without a word, Chopper dives away, leading the charge down the gauntlet of air to air fire. "Yeah-ho! Let's kill ourselves a sub!"

Behind Chopper, Edge and Archer fly, ready to plink the enemy air defenses. Blaze remains above them, prepared to dive on the ship the moment a missile is readied.

"Captain, now!" Edge informs the pilot that one of the doors are opened. Down the large fighter screams, eating up airspace at a frightening pace. A few token shot fly up at him, but nothing worth noting. At five thousand feet, Blaze sees the port, and aligns his fighter with it. At two thousand he drops the thousand pound weapon. As it falls, one of the multiple burst missiles flies up past it, intent on killing the pilots.

Blaze pulls out of his power dive, nearly blacking out in the process. Climbing back to above five thousand feet, Blaze surveys the damage. All three SAMs are out, as are two of the cannons. The launch ramp is caved in, barring any more than the five Forgers and single Freestyle in the air from returning home. And best of all, the missile compartment, with the multiple burst missiles and other warheads, is destroyed.

"It's still alive." As Chopper laments the fact that their opponent is still in the fight, the soon to be homeless fighters turn to engage the flight.

"Look alive, we've got company. Everyone, break of into pairs and stay above five thousand feet." Blaze and Edge turn to engage the Freestyle and two of the Forgers. Both are almost instantly on the tail of one of the Harrier clones. Neither last long under the barrage of cannon fire and Sidewinders. Above them sits the Freestyle. A new fighter, the Yak-141 is most like the "B" variant of the F-35 Lighting II, used by the Marines. The difference is that it is less able to carry as large a war load. But that does not make it any less potent. While the Forgers could only carry a couple of simple IR missiles, the Freestyle can carry the more advanced Archers and Alamos that proper interceptors carry.

"Edge, you go wide and get a shot off at him. I'll take him head on and try to get him to flinch." While Blaze angles his fighter into a zooming climb, Nagase brings her fighter around in a large climbing turn in an attempt to get behind the fighter.

'Come on you S.O.B. break off.' Right as Blaze gets to within range to fire a Sidewinder, the Yuke fighter breaks right - right into the Phoenix missile from Nagase. The V/STOL fighter disappears into an orange and grey ball of flame. "Nice shot Edge!"

Blaze levels off, forming up with the other fighters. "Check in everyone. What's your weapon status?"

Before anyone can respond, a laser beam from the Arkbird reaches down from space and splits open a section of the armored hull of the giant sub. From his position, Blaze can see men out on the deck, carrying what appear to be tubes.

"I have three missiles and one bomb, Captain."

"Got a single Phoenix and bomb, Kid."

"I still have a Phoenix and two Sidewinders, though I used all my JDAMs."

Blazed looks down at his weapons screen. He still has a single bomb and both his Phoenix missiles. Looking below, he sees more people on the deck of the Scinfaxi; some of them are trying to repair one of the SAMs. 'We need to act fast. If we don't stop it now, we lose.'

"Hey, Blaze?"

"Yeah, Gremlin?"

"You ever play golf?"

Blaze cranes his head back to try to look at his potentially deranged RIO. "No, why?"

"I can get a JDAM through that hole, if you can get me close to it."

Blaze looks at the hole. From three thousand feet, it looks like a small gash between metal plates. "You sure?"

"Positive."

For the first time in a very long time, Blaze thinks that something is too crazy for him to do. Flying head on into a full squadron of fighters may be one thing. But attempting to place a single bomb in a seemingly miniscule hole while being shot at by multiple missiles and guns is not Blaze's idea of sane.

"Wardog, cover me. I'm going in!" Blaze aims the fighter toward the aft deck of the sub. "Okay, Gremlin, you got one shot at this."

"I got a visual on the IR sensor right now. When I say 'drop,' launch that sucker, got it?"

"Roger." Blaze tries to hold the descending Tomcat as best as possible. Two shoulder launched SAMs reach up at him. Both miss wide and track the sun. The forward most Gecko swivels about to track him, but a sudden explosion ends its career.

"Hey, Kid, next time make sure all the SAMs are dead, okay?"

"Roger Chopper. Thanks." The irreverent pilot waggles his wings in acknowledgement, and then flies off. Blaze continues his decent, getting dangerously closes to having no room to pull out. Of his dive. "Uh…Gremlin we're running out of air."

"Just a few more feet…NOW!" Blaze lets the thousand pound weapon drop from the rack as he yanks the stick into his chest. The Tomcat reels skyward in a crushing twelve G pullout. Both pilot and RIO fade out momentarily.

"Yeah!" "Great shot, Kid!" "A hole in one!" All the pilots begin shouting at once. For a moment, Blaze is still a little dazed by the blood loss, but then he looks back. Beneath them, the Scinfaxi reels from a second major explosion, this one ripping off the back end of the ship. Rapidly, the gargantuan ship slips beneath the waves, never to surface again.

With it goes the Yuketobanian's hope of invading Osea.

* * *

**Angels: **Altitude in thousands of feet, such as "angels 10" 10,000 feet.

**Archer and Alamo**: Two common air to air missiles in the Russian/former Soviet arsenal. The Archer, R-73, is an IR (infrared) targeting missile and is considered by some to be superior to the Sidewinder. The Alamo, R-27, has multiple variants, including and semi-active radar homing, active radar homing, and IR versions. It is contemporaneous with the Sparrow or French MICA.

**BUFF**: Depending on present company, it either stands for "Big Ugly Fat Fellow," or "Big Ugly Fat Fer." Either way, it's still the venerable B-52 Stratofortress.

**BMD**: A Soviet-era armored personnel carrier, roughly the same as the Bradley. It looks more like the LAV or Stryker. A very useful, rugged, and capable vehicle.

**JDAM**: Joint Direct Attack Munitions. Essentially a Mk. 80 series bomb with a GPS system bolted on. Accurate to within roughly three feet of the target.

**Orion**: P-3C. A Navy maritime patrol aircraft, based off of the Lockheed Electra turboprop airliner. A very capable plane. One version, the EP-3 Aries, survived a collision with a Chinese J-7II.

**56****th** and **357****th**: Both are actual US Army Air Force units from the Second World War. Part of the famous "Mighty Eight," both units served with distinction over Europe. The 56th was a P-47 unit throughout, and was lead by the famous Hub Zemke. The 357th flew P-38s, P-47s, and P-51s. Both Chuck Yeager and Bud Anderson were in the group from Leiston.

**34****th**: The "Thunderbirds." Established in 1917, it is one of the oldest squadrons still in existence with the U.S. Air Force. Pilots and aircraft from the 34th provided some of the force that struck Japan under Jimmy Doolittle's command in April of 1942.

**SA-8**: Code named Gecko; it is a short ranged missile, roughly equal to the Sea Sparrow.

**Zone 1…5**: The different stages of the throttle. Zone 5 is the afterburner, or reheat.


	9. The Phoney War

* * *

_We have achieved peace in our time._

_-Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain_

_-22 October, 2010_

"Man this is stupid. Why do we need to patrol farmland?"

Blaze smiles behind his oxygen mask. His irreverent wingman has a point. The area of Ankerson hill has no major industry, no cities, no military base. The only things here are some electric generating windmills. "Yeah it is pretty stupid, but we're being paid to fly, so don't complain _too_ much."

Three hundred miles away, 1st Lieutenant Davenport laughs.

The squadron had been given this assignment three days ago. They were tasked to patrol the coastline outside of the SAM network for the next three days. While the pilots all thought it was a boring waste of time and resources, Perrault was adamant about the mission being vital to the safety of Osea.

'Not like that whale has any idea what a combat air patrol is like. All he's probably flown are ceremonial flights with unarmed aircraft. Maybe he was a 'trash hauler' in another life and is paying for it now.'

Blaze and Edge turn to make their way through the safe corridors in the SAM net. Prior to the war, the SAMs were set to manual operation. This allowed aircraft through the net, but kept the coastline under surveillance. Now, the SAMs are set to automatic fire. Unfortunately, this means that any aircraft without proper IFF coding will be shot at. Even with the proper IFF, there is no guarantee that a pilot won't have a Patriot rocketing up at him.

Though the radar for the network is overlapping, there are two routes of safe passage. One is on the eastern end of the net, which Chopper and Archer are heading to for their patrol. The other is near the center. Neither are very large, nor are they straight. They are supposed to be used for injured aircraft returning through the line, to reduce the chances of being hit. The High Command's fear is that the Yukes will figure it out and send aircraft through the corridors.

That is why they are here.

"Edge, make sure you got your RWR turned on. I don't trust these missiles."

"Roger, Blaze. Let's climb to angels fifteen, that way if a missile is fired accidentally, we'll have more time to evade."

"That's why they wanted you to lead the squadron; always thinking about what's best."

Edge blushed a little beneath her mask. Though what her captain told her was nice, she knew that she could never have led the squadron. Not after her mistake getting Bartlett shot down.

"… but the damage is light." Edge brings herself back to the task at hand.

"Transmitting aircraft: state your call sign and current status."

Ahead of them, wallowing about the sky, is an OADF C-5A Galaxy transport. "A response. This is the Osean Air Force transport 'Mother Goose One.'" The pilot of the lumbering giant of a plane goes on to explain to the pilots what the situation is. The flight is heading to North Point to take part in a top secret mission of great importance. Due to the secrecy of the mission, the IFF transponder on the transport is not up to code with the missile system. Because of this, one of the SAMs were fired at the transport, slightly damaging the starboard outer engine and messing with the radar. With their "eyes" out of focus, the transport cannot see the safe passage way.

"I'll lead you through the route." Blaze brings his fighter in front of the Galaxy.

"Do you know the way Blaze?"

The young flight lead looks over at his wing. "I know a short cut." Blaze angled his fighter toward the missile net, the transport in tow. Deftly, the young ace loops around radar cones and SAM envelopes, allowing enough space for the large airplane to maneuver easily. After about five minuets of banking and turning, the three planes exit the system.

"I've got multiple hits on my radar. Three flights of two, inbound from the north, vector 002."

Blaze looks over at the transport as it wheels its way to safety. "What type Gremlin?"

"Looking with the TCS right now. I can see the first pair very well. MiG-29s, probably 'As', each armed with the standard Archer and Alamo compliment."

"Anything on the other two pair?"

"Negative, I can't see them yet."

Blaze looks to his instruments to assess what he has to work with. He still has over half of his fuel load, along with all his weapons. 'If there only six of them,' he figures, 'we can take them easily.' "Chopper, Archer, when you get here, go and protect the transport more directly. Anything that gets past us is all yours."

"Roger. We'll keep that transport safe." Still south of them, the two pilots angle their fighters to head toward the transport's location.

"Edge, you ready?"

"As ever."

Blaze smiles. "Tally-ho." The slams the throttle control forward, causing the F-110 engines to scream. In seconds, two specks appear on his windscreen: the Fulcrums. Blaze arms his weapons, selecting the Slammers for an 'in your face' shot. While head on pass kills are not often seen as acceptable tactics, there are exceptions to every rule of engagement. As the fighters pass into the missile's envelope, Blaze fires.

Both AMRAAMs fly true to their respective targets. One hits the starboard intake, ripping out the nacelle in a large explosion. Blaze sees a parachute from that fighter.

The second attempts to turn away, and takes the missile right in the belly. Everything from the canopy on back is engulfed in flame.

"Two more fighters inbound. They appear to be Flanker series, possibly 33s or 35s." Before Blaze can respond to his RIOs information, Edge darts past.

"Edge, engaging." Almost before the words leave her mouth, two huge missiles rocket out from her fighter's belly. Both Phoenix missiles find their targets, Su-33 Flanker-Ks, and obliterate them.

While all this is happening, three miles away Chopper and Archer are engaging two MiG-31 Foxhound interceptors. Both of the large, speedy fighters had slipped past the lead pair while they were busy with the other fighters.

The pair of MiGs split up, as do the two Osean pilots. Archer gets close enough to fire a Sidewinder, which blows out one of the large Soloviev D-30 engines. Chopper, on the other hand, is having difficulty with his Foxhound. The large fighter, or rather interceptor, is not meant to dogfight. Apparently, no one ever told this pilot that. Using his fighter's superior speed and thrust to weight ratio, the Yuke pilot is able to keep the irreverent ace from gaining a clean shot. Already Chopper has wasted one of his Sidewinders.

"Chopper, pull back and use a longer ranged weapon." Chopper does so, getting a good lock for one of his AMRAAMs. The missile streaks in, detonating at the base of the port wing.

"Bull's-eye!"

"Captain, six more aircraft inbound, possibly more MiG-29s." The four fighters turn to meet this threat. Four of the Yuke fighters turn back before reaching the engagement zone. The other two are negated in a volley of Phoenix fire. With the skies sanitized, the pilots turn back to escorting the Galaxy.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Over the radio, the pilots hear some struggling and a gunshot.

The large plane begins to rock from side to side. "Hey, its Dutch-rolling."

As soon as the plane settles down, a new voice is heard on the radio. "Um, this is the transport plane Mother Goose One. Our pilot is dead, and the copilot has been shot."

Chris' mind stops cold. 'It can't be.' While lost in thought, Edge and Chopper help the mystery man direct his secretary in landing. The only problem is that the fields are dotted with huge electricity generating windmills.

"Can you take those out for us?"

Blaze snaps back to the mission. Without acknowledgment, he dives for the nearest windmill, intent on sawing it in half with his cannon.

"Hey kid, don't give yourself a headache aiming at every single one."

Blaze smiles crookedly, "Why don't you come down here and help me then, Motormouth." The young captain turns his fighter toward the next windmill. As he does, he sees Chopper and Edge line up with the next two in the line. All three fall almost simultaneously.

"Archer, take care of that last one." The nineteen year old dive down at it, nearly colliding with the massive tower before banking hard left.

"Mother Goose One, your runway is clear. Happy landings." Blaze waggles his wings at the transport as he slips in to the right wingman spot. As he does, Edge move to the left side of the transport. Peering inside, she can make out the outline of the two men now in control of the plane. Though she can't see either, there is something familiar about them.

"Mother Goose One, your drifting left, apply opposite rudder." The transport slides right, barely avoiding the blade of one of the windmills. "Good. Now, keep straight and ease her down." The Galaxy slowly rotates back to earth, its wheels toughing down against the grass covered field. "Pull back on the throttle and engage the brakes. You've got to stop that thing while you've got room."

Large rooster tails of dust follow the transport as it skids to a stop mere feet from hitting on of the giant towers. Everyone on board the plane, and in the sky, breathe a sigh of relief.

"Are you alright, Mr. Cargo?" Blaze smiles at Nagase's question. Of course she has to know who it really is. 'Doesn't she?'

"Yeah, that was pretty smooth, actually."

"Then you may like to fly with us on a _good_ day, sir."

"Chopper," Blaze chastises, trying to keep from laughing, "watch your mouth." Blaze gets a 'sorry kid' in response.

The man in the transport tells Nagase that he is heading to North Point, an Usean nation, to have peace talks with the Prime Minister of Yuktobania. At least he was. She goes on to ask him why the Arkbird had to be used as a weapon.

It amazes Blaze that she would be so concerned about that. After all, she is a fighter pilot.

"Uh-oh, I'm out of fuel." Chopper taps the fuel gage on his instrument panel, as if that will magically change his fuel status. None of the pilots want to leave the stricken transport before help arrives. But none of them want to have to perform their own emergency landing as well.

"How far can you stretch it, Chopper?"

"I can reach the Naval Air Station at Cape Landers, but I'll be dry by then."

"Can I be of any help," asks 'Mr. Cargo'

"Not unless you have a way of getting at least two hundred pounds of fuel to us from where you are. We'll be alright. I'll just whistle up a tanker from the Air Station, or from McNealy. I just don't want to leave you here."

"I'll be just fine Chris."

"Sir," interrupts Gremlin, "four fighters inbound. IFF calls them Osean."

Over the guard channel comes a smooth, almost emotionless voice. "This is the 8492nd Squadron. We saw the emergency landing on our radar. We'll take care of them."

As the four weary F-14 turn to find fuel for the flight home, Blaze can't help but think that there was something more about that last thing the pilot said. 'We'll take care of them.'

* * *

_-23 October, 2010_

It had started just after 0700 hours, and hasn't let up. If it went on much longer, Perrault would have a cow. He may even revoke the week passes for the whole squadron.

Chris marched down the hall, intent on finding the source of the booming. The closer he got to the pilot's rooms, the louder it got. 'If he doesn't kill you, Chopper, I will.'

Amsel knocks on the door, then slams on it. Grimm, not his irreverent friend, opens.

"Hey Captain," the young pilot smiles at his superior.

"Grimm, do you have any idea what'll happen if Perrault shows up?"

"Aw, let that overweight excuses for a commander do his worst. Nothing is keeping me from my rock and roll." Sitting on the floor is Davenport, a newspaper article in his hand. "Hey Grimm, what say we let Kid pick the next album?"

"Fine by me. Anyone else mind?" Four voices respond. Chris looks around to see not only Hans and Alvin, but also their RIOs, along with Jefferson, and Genette. A voice from behind him catches him off guard.

"Are we late?"

Chris turns to see Nagase, her Rio, and Pops walk up. Pops has a twelve pack of cola in his hands.

Chopper walks over. "Get in here, guys. You too Kid." He grabs Chris by the collar and pulls him into the room.

"What's going on?" Chopper hands Chris a drink and goes pack to his spot in front of the desk. Nagase and Grimm sit on the couch next to one of the RIOs. Pops and Genette stand next to the window, while the rest of the RIOs crowd next to the bed. Unsure of what to do, Chris stays by the door.

"Read this." Chopper hands him the article he cut out of a news paper. The headline reads _1__st__ Infantry Battalion Ships Out._

"So?"

Davenport rolls his eyes angrily at his captain. "So, this means that we'll be invading Yuktobania soon."

"That means more missions," adds Nagase.

"And hopefully, some leave before we're needed for the big push," finishes the youngest pilot.

Chris smiles. "So, we're celebrating early?"

This time, Jefferson responds. "We're celebrating because we aren't sure when our next leave will be."

Grinning, Chris pulls an envelope out of his back pocket. "How does seven days, starting tomorrow sound?"

_No one hardly slept that night. Each and every one of us were too excited about going home. We were getting to see our families for the first time in months. While letters and postcards and videos are nice and all, they are no replacement for holding your loved one in your arms; feeling their warmth, hearing their voice, seeing the happiness in their eyes._


	10. Homecoming

**

* * *

**

Homecoming

A time to weep and a time to laugh,

A time to mourn and a time to dance.

Ecclesiastes chapter 3 verse 4

_-24 October, 2010_

At 0530 hours, eight F-14D Tomcats and five F/A-18C Hornets lift off from the main runway of Sand Island Air Force Base. Their destination: Oured.

They form up on Blaze, with the Tomcats in a diamond formation and the Hornets flanking them on both sides. Each plane is armed with a pair of Sidewinders and "Slammers," though they should not have to use them. They also each carry a baggage pod, loaded with the pilots' and RIOs' duffels.

The flight is supposed to be uneventful. They are scheduled to pass over McNealy, refuel, and continue on to the capital. Nothing fancy or exciting.

Chopper, however, had other ideas.

'This'll make things more lively.' The pilot from November City plugs his MP3 player into the spare microphone plug in. Over the airwaves blares one of his favorite songs. In seconds, both he and "Opera" Driscoll are singing.

Blaze looks back at his friend's plane. "Hey Chopper, is that 'Blurry' I hear?"

Instead of answering, Chopper simply turns up the volume and sings louder. Grinning from ear to ear, Blaze decides to join in. "Can you take it all away…"

Slowly, the rest of the squadron joins in as well, even Nagase. The play list on Chopper's MP3 includes famous bands, like Sky Kid, The Who and AC-DC. It also includes some more, at least in the opinion of some of the pilots, obscure bands, like Stellar Kart and Disciple. One song gets Blazes attention.

"Hey Chopper, who's this?"

"It's the newest from Sky Kid, called Face of the Coin. Has to be the greatest song ever."

Chris rolls his eyes. 'Yeah, the song's good, but I don't know if it's _that_ good.'

* * *

Blaze breaks formation and puts his fighter into a slow right handed roll as he passes over Wright Air Force Base. Beneath him are the families of his pilots, and, he hopes, his family as well.

One by one, the weary pilot land, taxiing their fighters to the waiting crowd. Before they left Sand Island, Blaze had given orders that they would exit their fighters at the same time.

The last Tomcat rolls to a stop at the far end of the tarmac. Blaze shuts off his engines and nods. One by one, canopies open down the line and ladders deploy. As the glass bubble lifts on his fighter, Blaze can hear the cheers and screams of the families, glad to have their sons and daughters home.

* * *

Before his boots even touch the ground, Hans is enveloped by Allison Philips, his long time girlfriend. The blond haired girl nearly knocks the pilot to the ground, unconcerned with the state of her dress.

A few steps behind are Hans' mother, father and brother. Decked out in his Osean Army uniform, Matthias looks quite imposing next to his somewhat scrawnier younger brother.

* * *

Davenport doesn't even bother with the ladder; instead he jumps down from the cockpit. As soon as his feet hit the ground, a four year old boy latches on to his right leg.

"Hey big guy!" Alvin scoops his son up, tossing him in the air before catching him and wrapping him in a bear hug. Not far behind is Alvin's wife, Suzie, carrying their one year old daughter. After a not so brief kiss, Alvin takes the equally excited Emily from his wife's hands.

* * *

Nagase climbs down from her fighter slowly. It is almost as if she doesn't want to be home. Waiting for her are her parents and older sister Naomi. As soon as she is on the ground, her father goes from being a stoic man to concerned parent. He runs over to her, embracing her.

"I was so worried." Dr. Ken'ichi Nagase is joined by his wife Rina and their other daughter in embracing the young fighter pilot.

"I'm fine."

* * *

Blaze sits in his cockpit for a moment, observing the displays of affection. Slowly, he removes his helmet and frees himself from the ejection seat straps. From a spot in the back of the crowd, someone yells his name.

Chris makes his way onto the ladder, and slides down quickly, nearly hitting Jefferson in the head. Slipping out of his parachute and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, Chris runs into the crowd. After a few moment of shoving, a pair of warm lips meets his as the young woman's arms envelop him in the biggest hug ever.

"I missed you so much." Chris' violet-blue gaze meets with the most beautiful green he had ever known. Penny's eyes smile back at him.

"I love you."

Chris kisses her again. "I love you, too." A punch to the shoulder draws him away from his fiancé.

"Hey big brother." Eva gives Chris the second biggest hug he had ever received.

"I was worried about you when they attacked St. Hewlet."

Eva gives him a lopsided grin. "I was fine. Learned a lot in the following four hours. I had never seen some of those injuries before, and never to that extent. Especially the burns."

Chris' shoulders drop a little as he remembers the men floating in the water as the Frogfoot…

A flick to the ear brings Chris back. Without looking, Chris grabs the left hand of his brother and nearly flips him over.

"Good to see you haven't lost your touch, bro."

"Good to see you're still a teenager, Geoff." Chris hugs the irreverent young man. As soon as Geoff releases his brother, Katie swoops in for her hug.

"It's good to see you're safe, Chris." Katie lets go and looks her bother square in the eyes. "She knew you would be."

Behind his sister stands a frail, ashen figure. Helen Amsel steps forward and embraces her son with all the strength left in her body.

"I knew you'd be just like you father some day." Her blue eyes tear up as she remembers her husband. "I'm so proud of you, Chris. And I know he would be too."

Chris hugs his mother again. "I wonder what dad would say right now."

"Probably, 'Son, you make me proud.'"

Chris spins around, nearly knocking his mother to the ground. Before Chris stands his mentor, dressed in the uniform of an ISAF Air Force General; every pin and medal in its place. From they're place in the crowd; Kei and Grimm see the General, amazed and bewildered as to why an ISAF commander would visit a lowly Osean pilot.

The former ace salutes the returned hero. "It is an honor to have been your mentor, Captain."

The young pilot snaps a momentary salute, and then accepts the outstretched hand of General Jonah Davis.

The former Ace of Aces pulls his protégé in for a near crushing bear hug. "I couldn't have been prouder if you had been my own son, Kid."

* * *

_Those words meant more to me than all the accolades and awards that our squadron would receive during the course of that cursed and pointless war._

* * *

A microphone's screech demands Chris' attention. "Captain, could you come over here, please?" Next to a podium in the open hanger is Vice President Applerouth and high ranking members of the Air Force.

Amsel sighs and walks over to the Vice President. Not a very impressive man, even Grimm is taller and more muscular, yet Applerouth shakes Amsel's hand with one of the strongest grips that the young captain can remember.

"You, and your squadron, have made you country proud. As such, I would like to present you with the Air Force Meritorious Unit Award." A Brigadier General hands Amsel a vertically striped pendant and ribbon.

"Congratulations, Captain." The General salutes.

Shifting the award to his left hand, Amsel comes to full attention and snaps the crispest salute since his time in the Academy. The twelve other pilots and eight RIOs in the crowd do likewise.

* * *

The "Nine O' Nine" could not have been fuller. All of the military personnel in Oured had tried to get time off to celebrate the success of the "Four Wings of Sand Island." Most of the crowd was pilots, some simple nuggets from the Academy, and others battle hardened veterans.

Because this bar is their "home," the 27th have agreed to host the celebration honoring the pilots of the 108th. And none receive more praise and accolades than the "Four Wings" themselves. At the center of all the commotion and uproar, is none other than Captain Seth Adams.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe it is time for our latest Aces to be given their rightful place in this establishment. Dwayne, if you would be so kind." Seth takes a swig of his drink as the barkeeper goes into the back room.

"What did you do, Seth?" Chris looks at his friend, suspicious of some kind of prank.

"You'll like it, promise." The bartender, Dwayne, returns, along with three others, carrying boards. He steps behind the bar and hangs the first board on the wall, beside those of the other Osean aces. On the board are rows of small red flags beside markings that Chris instantly recognizes.

The first is a firebird diving out of a cloud, a Sidewinder missile clutched in its talons. The barkeeper hangs the young aviator's board on the wall, the ten Yuke flags impossible to miss beneath his name. A thunder of applause erupts in the bar as a handful of pilots give Hans congratulatory slaps on the back.

The next up is Chopper's; his wife's words emblazoned in gold next to his twelve and a half flags. Above the din that follows, Chris hears the boisterous pilot yelling something along the lines of: 'you ain't seen nothin' yet.'

Dwayne reaches up to hang the third board. On the far left is an image most would not recognize. It is a dark, cloaked figure, dragging a sharp katana at his side; a stylized image of the Demon of Razgriz, when he would appear as a destroyer. Chris had noticed that Nagase often would read through a very old copy of the legend. That image, next to her fifteen and a half flags seemed very fitting.

Finally, Dwayne lifts up one last board. The angel on the right side stands in stark contrast to the demon on the board beside it. It also seems crowded by the flags on the remainder of the board.

"_Sierra Hotel_, Amsel! Twenty five!?!" Everyone in the bar looks to where the young captain stands. Nonchalantly, he shrugs.

"That's all they've confirmed. No big deal."

"No big deal?" Seth walks over to his friend. "You see that board up top? That's Bong's record. You're over half way to being tied with him!"

* * *

Three hours later, the party shows no sign of slowing down. And while he is enjoying himself, dancing with Penny, reminiscing with friends, telling embellished stories about the war, Chris doesn't want to spend all his leave in the bar.

For the moment, however, he is content sitting at the bar with his three friends. They do not say a word; not that they have to. Just having some time to stop and think, or even not think, is greatly appreciated.

People continue to shuffle in, out, and about the bar; congratulating the four aces as they do. One person actually stops to say more than a clichéd accolade.

"It is an immense pleasure to meet the Four Wings of Sand Island." Chris turns to see a young man, about his age, but whose stature is more like Grimm's.

"It's nice to know how many people like us." Chopper shakes the man's hand.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you four; if I'm not imposing, that is."

Chris shrugs, "Why not? I don't think we're too busy right now." The man takes a seat at the bar, and then pulls out a small notepad and a tape recorder. 'Dang it!'

"My name is Peter Fredricks, Associated Press. I was hoping to find a few minutes to talk with you four about your experience so far." Fredricks sets his pad on the bar, and hits record on his tape recorder.

"You know Mr. Fredricks-"

"Hey, Kid, let me handle this, okay?" Chris nods, allowing his obnoxious and loud friend to take the floor.

"Freddy, we just got finished with some of the most insane and impossible missions ever. We are tired, too tired to suffer media people like yourself. We each have already been interviewed, and likely will be interviewed again by Albert Gennette when we get back to the base. But for right now, could you please just leave us alone? We're on vacation." With that, Chopper picks up his drink and downs it in one gulp. Fredricks slips away as quietly as possible.

"I'm impressed, Chopper."

The ace looks over at Nagase. "Why?"

"You've come a long way from that surrender request before the war began. I thought you were going to punch the guy."

Chopper just waves her comment off. "Nah, Grimm could've taken him. I just wanted him to leave. Speaking of leaving," he looks down at his watch, "I should get to the hotel if I want to see A.J. and Emily before they go to bed. See y'all tomorrow." And then there were three.

A few moments later, Grimm breaks the silence. "Pretty quiet without him."

"Nice, isn't it?"

"Yes it is, Captain." The young pilot takes one last sip of his drink. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll be going as well. Goodnight."

"'Night Grimm." Chris looks around the bar, finally noticing how empty it really is. A handful of 27th pilots are still hanging around, but other than that, the bar is almost devoid of life. "Maybe we should call it a night, too."

"Sounds like a good idea, Captain." Both Amsel and Nagase stand up and walk out of the bar, thanking the now inebriated Seth for the welcome. Neither pilot understands his slurred answer.

Both pilots step outside, zipping up their jackets against the cold night air. Neither have anywhere they need to be; Penny decided to go to bed early, and Nagase's father had to get back to the space center, so the two aces have the night to themselves.

"Hey, Chris!" 'Well, not quite to ourselves.' Chris turns around just in time to see a man in a flight suit walking in their direction.

"Sora?" The ace struts over to his friend. "What are you still doing in Oured?"

"Squadron's shipping out in four days. We've been sitting in the Bay ever since the _Buzzard_ and _Vulture_ got sunk. The Admirals are all scared that they'll lose more precious Boats."

"I though you'd be on an assault ship." Nakahara nods.

"I am, but any ship with a deck and at least one fighter is being considered a carrier right now. We are woefully short on any flattop. _Kestrel_ and _Barbette_ are the only two big Boats that are in fighting condition. I did hear that they are thinking of trying to raise Vulture, not that she'll be out of dry-dock in time for any action."

"What ship are you on?"

"OFS _Megiddo_."

Nagase tilts her head slightly, thinking about the recent news about the Army. "Will there be troops on board when you leave?"

Nakahara smiles a little, and puts his finger to his lips. "No." Nagase raises her eyebrow. Chris simply laughs. "Where you two going? Isn't your party inside?"

Chris shrugs. "Party's pretty much over, except for Seth. He's hammered."

"We just dodged an interview, and are content with doing nothing."

Sora smiles. "Sounds like fun. Mind if I join you?"

This time, Kei smiles. "Not at all."

* * *

_-25 October, 2010_

The three pilots wander about downtown Oured for close to half an hour, all the while talking about anything _but_ the war. Nagase informs both of them of her father's recent work towards the proposed International Space Station. Despite the war, it seems that for some people life goes on uninterrupted.

'Well, almost. We did have to keep the space center from being attacked. Good to know that the rocket men haven't let it stop them.'

Neither Chris nor Nagase are trying to think about the war, instead they are enjoying the company of a fellow aviator who has a number of interesting stories. Being a Marine pilot, Nakahara doesn't fly a "regular" fighter. His squadron is equipped with the new F-35B, the V/STOL variant of the Lightning II. Sora takes the time to explain how different it is to fly a plane that can hover.

"It takes some getting used to. Especially when landing on a deck in a crosswind."

"Does it handle badly?"

"Not at all, just requires thinking in very unconventional terms. Not only do you have to think about rudder and stick controls, but also throttle and the angle of the exhaust. It's a lot of fun, though."

"I'll bet it is," Nagase muses.

Chris looks over at his squadron mate. Most of the conversation has been between her and Nakahara. The last time they were in the same area, talking with Chris' friend, she seemed to be more reserved than this. Now, she's almost dominating the conversation.

"How long have you known the captain?"

Nakahara shrugs and smiles. "I've known Chris for close to, what, five years?"

"That sounds about right. High school was when we, along with Seth, hung out the most."

"Anyway, I was the one who introduced Chris here to Penny-"

"You did not! We moved in next door to the Davis' in '05. If anyone introduced me to Penny, it was _me_."

"Yeah, and now here we are, five years later. She's still your girlfriend, amazingly. And you managed to get her pregnant without even so much as proposing to her. What happened?"

"I though your parents would have explained the 'birds and bees' to you by now."

Sora punches his friend in the shoulder. "Not that. I mean, I though you two were the real deal. Gonna do things right. You know, get married then start a family and a life together; the stereotypical 'happily ever after' and all that."

Chris stares blankly ahead. 'He's right. This is not how either of us ever planned it.' "Just so you know, I did propose to her, technically."

"_Technically_?" Nagase looks at her flight lead incredulously. "Please tell me you at least got her a ring."

Chris looks at his shoes. "Sort of."

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"

"I got her a promise ring, like the one she got me."

"So, _technically_, you didn't get her a ring?"

"What? I didn't have any money back then."

Edge grabs Chris by the collar and drags him behind her. In a few moments, they find themselves in front of a jewelry store window.

"Pick one." It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order.

Silently, Chris stands there for a few moments. In the window are no less than fifteen wedding rings. And those are just the single rings for the bride alone. There are also wedding and engagement pairs, rings that go with extra jewelry, and even rings that have a match for the groom. So much sparkle can be quite intimidating for any guy.

Suddenly, Chris' finger juts against the glass. "That one."

Kei and Sora look to the box he points at. In it are two rings. One is a simple white metal band with a Celtic knot design engraved on it. Beside it is a somewhat smaller ring with a similar design on it. The knots widen at the top, where a half caret rectangular cut emerald is set; two small similarly cut diamonds flanking.

Silently, both Kei and Sora nod in approval.

* * *

The incessant buzzing next to his head yanks Chris out of another wonderful dream. 'Someday, I'm going to be alone on a beach with Penny and no stupid alarm is going to interrupt me.' Smacking the infernal white box, Chris stands up and heads for the shower. One of the nice things about the visitor's quarters at the airbase is that each room has a private bathroom.

After fifteen minutes, a more human Chris walks back into the bedroom and finds some casual clothing. He luckily gets through getting dressed when Kei knocks at his door.

"Hurry up, sir."

Chris opens the door to find Nagase, Nakahara, Davenport and Grimm. "Hey, guys. I guess Nagase told you everything already?"

"Yup." Chopper peers over the top of his aviators at Chris; a look of "how could you, Kid" in his eyes.

Smiling, Chris grabs his flight jacket. "Well then, let's not waste any time."

As Nakahara turns onto the street the jewelry store is on, Chris turns in his seat to talk to his friends.

"Grimm, I need you to go to St. Paul's and talk to the pastor there."

"Got it."

"Chopper, think you could find a good spot for a reception?"

The mischievous ace smiles. "Can I D.J. for you?"

"Knock yourself out." From the seat behind them, Nagase leans forward.

"What about me and Sora?"

"You'll come with me, for now." Four aviators get out of the SUV and split up. Grimm takes the driver's seat and heads to his objective while Chopper walks down the street, in search of his. Amsel, Nagase, and Nakahara enter the jewelry store.

Inside the small mom-and-pop establishment are a number of glass displays, each filled with glittering and shining objects. While Nagase and Nakahara look around, Chris walks to the back. The owner of the store greets him.

"How can I help you?"

"I would like one of the rings in the window." The two men walk up to the window display. Once there, the owner takes out a key and unlocks the display.

"Which one?" Chris points out the pair he saw last night. "Some young lady is going to be very happy when you giver this to her." He hands the small velvet covered box to Chris, who cradles it as if it is an ancient treasure from some long lost kingdom.

"Thank you."

* * *

A few minutes later, the three pilots leave the store.

"Think they're done?" Nakahara looks to his friend, who hasn't stopped smiling since being handed the box.

"No, but we still have a lot to do." Chris fishes out his cell phone and dials.

"Vanderbeck's."

"Yes, I would like to make a reservation for tonight at 8:00."

"Under what name, sir?"

"Amsel."

The man on the other end pauses for a moment. "As in _Captain_ Amsel?"

"That is correct."

"Sir, I will personally see to it that you get our best table."

"Thank you." Chris smiles. _It's kind of nice being famous._ "There is one more thing."

"Anything sir." Chris goes on to explain his request. "It is an honor, sir, to help a hero of Osea."

"Again, thank you." Chris ends the call, then plots his next move.

"What next, Captain?"

Ignoring Nagase, Chris dials again. As he hoped, his sister answered the hotel room phone. "Hey, Eva."

"Chris, where are you?"

"Standing outside a small store, holding something that I should've given Penny a long time ago. I want you and her to go down town. Find her nice dress. Visit a spa. You know, all those things women do when getting ready to go on a date."

"Where you taking her?" Chris can hear the sly smile in his sister's voice.

"Vanderback's."

"Oh, I'll make sure we get a dress that'll knock your socks off."

"If you can get them to was and dry themselves too, I will be eternally grateful."

"You got it." The phone clicks and Chris returns it to his pocket.

* * *

At 7:30, there is a knock at the door of the hotel room. While she walks over to answer the door, Penny reminds Chris that he has a key.

"Maybe I, uh, lost it, I think."

"What! You think? Or do you-" the door opens "-know…" Standing there in his blue dress uniform, Penny can't help but stare at the man she fell in love with.

Chris can't help himself, either. The simple, yet elegant, white dress clings to her lovely form.

"What are you staring at, flyboy?"

Chris blinks, his eyes meeting hers. "Only the most beautiful woman ever." He holds his arm out. "Ready to go?"

Penny loops her arm into his and they head off into the night.

* * *

Upon arriving at the restaurant, both Chris and Penny receive a welcome that few celebrities would have gotten. The table they are given is close to the string quartet and piano, but not too close. The waiter, as soon as they are seated, brings one of the best bottles of wine, though when Penny objects, due to being pregnant, he apologizes profusely.

"I guess they don't see to may expectant mothers here."

Immediately, the waiter returns with water, apologizing again for any offence. Both Penny and Chris reassure him that neither of them had their feelings hurt. Before he leaves, Chris asks him if there is anything against them dancing to the beautiful music.

"But of course, sir. Anything for the hero of Osea." As he walks away, Chris rolls his eyes.

"I have a feeling I'm going to get sick of all this 'hero' stuff real quick."

Penny smiles, resting her hand on top of his. "Dad felt the same way."

Chris looks at her and smiles, which she returns. Letting go of her hand, he stands, and walks over to her chair. Holding out his hand, he asks: "May I have this dance?"

"Certainly." She takes his hand, and they step out in front of the musicians. Quickly, Chris reaches into his right pocket, just to be sure it is still there.

The quartet notices their arrival, and begins a new song; a slow waltz. 'Sounds a little like what they play at weddings.' Chris holds Penny close as they sway and turn with the music. For a few brief moments, he is not the warrior from Sand Island. Instead, he is just a young man in love with a beautiful young woman.

In time, the music dies down, and faint applause takes its place. While anxious, Chris ignores it, instead he continues to sway with Penny to music that is not to be heard.

"Penny?"

Two beautiful green eyes look up at him. "Yeah?"

Chris takes a step back from her, but does not let go of her hands. Taking a deep breath, he smiles, then drops to his knee. Reaching into his pocket, Chris pulls out the ring. "Penelope Davis, will you marry me?"

An eternity later, Chris hears the word that he knew and hoped he would hear: "Yes."

* * *

_-26 October, 2010_

"I, in the presence of God and these witnesses…"

"I, in the presence of God and these witnesses…"

"Take you, Penny, to be my lawfully wedded wife…"

Chris looks into her eyes for the thousandth time in the last twenty minutes. "Take you, Penny, to be my lawfully wedded wife…"

"To have and to hold…"

* * *

"To have and to hold…"

"From this day forth…"

She smiles, trying not to tear up for the thousandth time. "From this day forth…"

"Until death do us part…"

* * *

"Until death do us part…"

Leaning over, Chopper gains the attention of his young cohort. "Those Yukes better not kill him or there'll be hell to pay."

Grimm chuckles quietly. "That is if she leaves anything for us to kill."

* * *

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." Without hesitation, Chris pulls Penny close for one of the most passionate kisses they have ever shared. The small crowd in the church applauds.

When they finally come up for air, the pastor continues. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Captain and Mrs. Christoph Amsel."

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen," standing in the center of a dark and crowded dance floor, Seth Adams stands with a microphone. "It is my pleasure to introduce to you my friends: Captain Christoph and his wife Penelope Amsel!"

Everyone applauds as the pair walk in, turning to avoid people and tables as they make their way to the head table.

Before they even sit down, people start tapping forks or spoons against glasses. In seconds, an orchestra of clinking glasses fills the room. Without hesitation, Chris and Penny embrace and kiss, silencing the crowd for now.

As soon as people begin to settle down and find their seats, Eva takes the microphone from Seth.

"Everyone, I would like to propose a toast to my brother and his wife."

People around the room grab a glass and raise them.

"May you tow find true happiness and peace in the coming days and years."

* * *

The celebrating goes on for a couple of hours before Chopper stands up and announced he had a surprise for the newlyweds. Quickly, Chris glances over at his friends.

"Do I need to be worried?"

Nagase smiles as the music-loving ace walks over to a table with a large curtain behind it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Alvin Davenport. While flying I'm known as Chopper, but tonight, I am your disc jockey. As such I have been given the authority to tell the bride and groom that it is time for them to have their first dance as husband and wife." The room erupts in applause, cheers and whistles. Chopper beacons Chris and Penny to come out onto the dance floor.

As soon as they are on the floor, Chopper goes to one corner of the curtain, with Grimm at the other. "I know that my taste in music may sometimes grate against others-"

"NO," interrupts a sarcastic Nagase.

"But I think that you will all agree that the song I have chosen is appropriate. Grimm, on the count of three. One. Two. Three." With that, the two aces tug on the curtain, pulling it to the floor.

Behind the frame holding the curtain stands a small band. One of the members steps forward to a microphone, an acoustic guitar in his hands. While Chris does not recognize him, Penny does.

"Chris, that's Warren Barfield."

"Who?"

Before she can explain, the singer introduces himself. "When my friend Alvin here told me that his captain was getting married, I asked if there was anything I could do. Years ago, when we were both in a band together, Alvin and I started piecing together a song that was a tribute to our girlfriends. He asked if I remembered that song, explaining that it would be perfect for a first dance. It is a song of true love, which, by what I have been told by all your friends, you two have made." Barfield retrieves a pick from his pocket, and starts plucking a tune.

"Love is not a place, to come and go as please. It's a house we enter in, and then commit to never leave. So lock the door behind you, and throw away the key. We'll work it out together, let it bring us to our knees."

Already, Chris and Penny are slowly gliding across the floor as the rest of the band begins to play together, filling the room with beautiful music.

"Love is a shelter, in a raging storm. Love is a peace, in the middle of a war. And if we try to leave, may God send angles to guard the door. No love's not a fight, but it's something worth fighting for."

* * *

_-30 October, 2010_

The alarm beside the bed buzzed for the last time. There was no more fighting it, he had to get up and get going. If not, he would be late, and probably labeled a deserter.

Beside him, Penny lay motionless. The early morning light creeping through the curtains casting a soft glow on her face. And lighting a small sparkle on her left hand.

'Mrs. Penelope Amsel.' Chris smiles. Quietly, he gets up and walks into the bathroom, looking with disgust at the very unmilitary face in the mirror.

"Well, I guess we got to go back out there and show them who owns these skies." Rubbing his chin with his hand, Chris feels two days of stubble. "But first, I should look a _little_ more professional."

Four hours later, Chris, along with all the other pilots of Wardog squadron are standing on the tarmac at the airbase. Again, their loved ones are their. This time, it is not the joyful welcoming home, but tearful goodbyes.

Penny holds onto Chris for dear life. It is almost as if she is afraid to let him go back to war.

"I'll be fine. I've got Nagase and Grimm to look after me. And Chopper'll be there too."

They both laugh a little, but Penny does not relinquish her hold.

"I've got something for you."

Penny looks up at him, wondering what he could have for her. Reaching into his pocket, Chris pulls out a chain with two ovoid metal tags. "When my father went off to war, he gave mom a set of tags for her to keep. One had his name on it, the other hers. That way they were never apart." He places the cool metal in her hand. "These have or names on them. Now we'll never be apart."

Penny looks up at him and smiles. "This better not be the last thing you ever give me, flyboy."

"Promise, I'll be back. Besides, nothing is keeping me from being there when our son is born." Their lips meet one last time before he turns and starts walking out of the hanger and onto the sunlit tarmac. Behind Penny stands the rest of the family. As Chris reaches the ladder of his Tomcat, a voice rises above all.

"Check Six, Kid!"

Chris turns to see Jonah, dressed in civilian clothes, saluting him. Instantly, Chris snaps a crisp salute and climbs the ladder. As he begins preflight, his thoughts wander to everything he is leaving behind. Perhaps for the last time.

'Not if I can help it.' His preflight over, Chris lowers the canopy and starts up the engines. The whine of the twin turbojets is muffled by his helmet instantly. Once again, Christoph Amsel is off to war.

**

* * *

**

**Love Is Not A Fight:** A song by Christian artist Warren Barfield. It is featured at the end of the movie _Fireproof_, which is a good movie for anyone in a relationship or marriage to watch. Some of the lyrics are above.


	11. Letter from the Author

To all faithful readers,

I am sorry to have to do this again. It seems that I have hit an insurmountable road-block. This story was never very well planed. I simply thought the concept of Blaze as a Belkan was intriguing, and then I had a very good idea for a twist during the attacks on Apito/Bana City.

I also need to apologies for "borrowing" too heavily from other authors. I am currently not very happy with myself, my style of writing as seen in this story, or my inability to commit to it. That being said, I am discontinuing it, but hopefully not forever.

I do have a new story that I will be writing; still in the Ace Combat world. The only hold up is that I do not have Ace Combat Zero. I am also going to branch out into a story that is inspired by a song and a picture, as well as attempt to hone some ideas in a sci-fi based story or two, and maybe even something based on the show "Battle 360."

My hope is to have this new Ace Combat story, to be titled "Father and Son," on the site within the next few months. The beginning is posted in the following chapter. Some of you may recall a similar post while I was attempting to get back to my story the first time. That bit is the image I saw that I am building my story around. I know one review asked how I got there. Well, it just so happens that the beginning is 54 years earlier. Read it, review it, and be patient. I will have the story posted.

Until then, keep reading,

Sotér

May the grace and peace of the Almighty overshadow you in your journey.


	12. A Humble Beginning

War.

A simple word; only three letters and a single syllable.

Yet this word has caused more change than nearly all other words combined.

Except for perhaps one:

Love.

* * *

_-6 June, 1961_

He had been waiting an agonizing eleven and a half hours. He did not like waiting, not for a mission, not for an engagement, and especially not for this. He'd been waiting nine months for this day, and now was forced, by the person he waited to meet, to wait some more.

Sitting down, he looked at the stack of magazines on the table in the corner. He'd read them all already. For the first time in his life, he wished he had some paperwork to do. The cushion of the couch shifted while a calloused hand rested gently on his shoulder.

"I hate this."

The man sitting next to him smiled. "Well, I waited for fifteen hours for you. I guess it's no surprise that it'd happen to you." George laughed. It was not just a simple chuckle, but the hearty laugh that he saved for occasions like this. For a few moments, he wasn't the hard oil rig builder that his son often saw him as.

Simon smiled, finally. Like his father, he was a man of few words. Unlike George, Simon did not work in the oil industry. Even though he was guaranteed a job as the son of EOI's chief executive, Simon sought work elsewhere.

He found it in the Air Force. After two years of active duty, Simon had risen to command the 97th TFS, which was equipped with F-100s, a plane that was seen as adequate, but lacking in potential improvement.

His thoughts returning to the waiting room, Simon stood up and started pacing again.

"Shouldn't the doctor have come back out by now?"

"Not necessarily. Besides, if he came out too soon or too often, that might mean there is something wrong."

"I hadn't thought of that." Simon paused for a second, trying to collect his thoughts. "Do you think I'm ready?"

"No." The young man's shoulders slump visibly at the unexpected answer. "But then again, no one ever truly is. This is the most important thing you will ever do."

"I know."

George smiles. "Good. Turn around."

Confused, Simon does as he is told. To his relief, the doctor is there. And carrying something wrapped in a blanket.

"Captain," he hands him the something, "meet your son."

Simon looks down. Two tightly closed eyes, a squished nose and quivering lips are the first things he notices. The next is the grip his son's free hand has on Simon's pinky finger. For an eternal, silent moment, all is right in the world.

And Simon knows that this young life, his son, is his to protect; his to teach, his to love unconditionally. Finally, Captain Simon Barker smiles.

"Welcome to the world, William."


End file.
